


Live-In Skin

by headwired



Category: 1990s Music RPF, Foo Fighters, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden
Genre: Drawn-out Romance, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Grunge Fandom, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headwired/pseuds/headwired
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saffy is in limbo, her adolescence finished and adulthood begun in an emotional and physical doldrums. Olympia is a sleepy college town in Washington state, but it's full of weird and wonderful characters who help to draw her out of her attic home in a crumbling apartment block – particularly her flatmate's new drummer recruit, whose exuberant manner is enough to reverse the withdrawn nature she'd taken on after *that* accident. But then there's the fact that he's a skinny, impishly handsome and hyperactive young man with long, slightly unkempt hair, whose name is Dave Grohl, and all the implications involved. Over the course of a decade, Saffy sees wild highs and devastating lows, and at the most important of these times, her path intersects with his.</p><p>NONE OF THIS WRITING IS INTENDED TO OFFEND, BREACH COPYRIGHTS OR BE IN ANY WAY REPRESENTATIVE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was sixteen, and I think it shows! But I wasn't going to just put 42,000 words in the trash, and at its peak this story had over 100 regular readers on tumblr, so I thought I'd give it a new lease of life. If you're one of those readers, you'll notice I've tweaked some details but the important stuff remains largely unchanged.  
> It's a deeply flawed story, but as it's fanfiction, and old writing at that, I don't uphold myself to my usual standards. Nevertheless, I still enjoy re-reading it, and I hope you will too.

The heel of my right hand was covered in dark grey smudges, but the sheet of paper in front of me carried something I could finally be proud of after two hours of hard graft. I tucked my reference photograph back into the top drawer of my chest of drawers, and pinned the drawing onto the wall next to my bed, before dragging myself over to the enamel sink and scrubbing at my greyish hands with soap and a nail brush. My reflection in the grimy, spotted mirror was framed by waving strands of chocolate brown shoulder-length hair, slightly lank out of sheer laziness over the past few days, and still carrying some inky blue tips up to my chin. By glancing out of my top floor window, I vaguely registered that it was perhaps only mid-afternoon, the heat of the sun creating a haze over the rooftops of Olympia and blurring the horizon into the pale sky. A tentative knock prompted me to jump out of my reverie, and I turned towards my door.

‘Come in.’

The door swung open to reveal a dishevelled man in ripped jeans and a Mudhoney t-shirt with several days’ worth of stubble and dishwater blonde hair. ‘Your Chinese arrived.’

‘Oh, thanks Kurt. I guess I didn’t hear it being delivered… you know I’d have hauled myself down to fetch it otherwise.’

‘It’s not a problem. We’ll be practising downstairs for a bit, hope you don’t mind the banging.’

‘Nope, that’s fine.’

‘Alright. Thanks, Saffy.’

I waved a hand at Kurt as he closed the door behind him, and crossed my attic room towards the cassette player on the small wooden table, setting down the cardboard stir-fry carton and pressing play. J Mascis’ voice flooded my ears and I grinned, sinking into an armchair and digging into my supper.

 

-

 

I wished I had a balcony. This complaint came to mind as I ate a piece of toast and gazed out the window again the next morning. But nope, that's not what you get when you’re impoverished and staying in an Olympia attic.

I had first dropped out of college and holing up at the top of this dilapidated house a couple of months ago. Another six months before that, my father completely dropped off the radar with one of his new partners. My mother died when I was ten, and he'd never quite got the hang of being on his own. Now I was twenty, and just after the New Year of 1990, I got caught up in a motorbike crash and smashed up my ankle; seven months later, it seemed to be on its way to being healed, but to me it was still highly uncomfortable and awkward, hence my limp. I couldn’t afford the physiotherapy, and I’d been struggling at college anyway so it made sense to drop out. Growing up in San Francisco could be an eye-opener, but as a child I’d been a bit of a drifter like my hippie mother. Consequently, I wasn't very close to the vague friends I had, so after the accident I had to rely on my rather distant and much older brother, Will, to help me out.

Olympia had an almost legendary status as an insular but artistic town, which suited me just fine so far. Will found me the cheap, dilapidated attic through some mutual friends’ connections, and Kurt lived in the apartment below me. We shared a front door and a corridor, so naturally I became quite closely acquainted with him, and I found him perfectly friendly and pleasantly observant. So far, I’d barely ever ventured outside – my ankle became too painful after more than a few hundred yards, and I mentally recoiled at the idea of any sort of assistance. No, I decided, I was perfectly comfortable hobbling around my attic, drawing on copious amounts of cartridge paper and reading voraciously. I shied away from the thought of finally having to face the dwindling funds in my bank account only meagrely supplemented by my temporary disability benefit, unemployment grant and one or two other low interest loans. Sometimes Kurt bought my groceries too, something for which I felt bad about but was nevertheless very grateful. With my ankle, there was little chance of finding any sort of job, let alone attend any of the little shows and parties Kurt always returned from with his girlfriend, Tobi, and recounted to me eagerly. I longed to get out and hear the Melvins, Tad, Mudhoney and Kurt’s own band Nirvana, whose rehearsals I only heard through the floorboards; music had always been a big part of my life, and I once attended an all-ages Black Flag show in LA when I was seventeen. I’d never forgotten the adrenaline-fuelled thrill of a punk rock show, and it was something I desperately wanted to experience again.

In the meantime, it was easy to become enthralled in the laid-back, almost childlike way of life in Olympia, concentrating on enjoying today and forgetting tomorrow. Another day passed; I read another book. I ate like shit. I cut Kurt’s hair for him. I painted a mural on the wall. I gave another ten dollar bill to Kurt and he bought me a record and a new sketchpad. Sometimes he brought friends upstairs and they said hi and chatted for a little while. But every single night, I watched the sun set over Olympia as the people’s parties echoed through the August heat, turning the rooftops into a mild orange-grey haze for a few minutes, and prompting me to settle into my armchair with Dinosaur Jr. and indulge in the moment once again.

 

-

 

I sat on Kurt’s sofa on a rare trip downstairs, watching his band fiddle about with amplifiers and cymbals. He’d invited me to watch one of their practices at last, and I accepted eagerly. I’d always wanted to see them play in front of my eyes, but I was previously afraid to ask. Some art, I understood from my drawing experience, is a very personal thing, and you share it only with those you wish to. Krist, who played bass, was a familiar face and a great personality, immediately setting me at ease when we first met a month or so previously by nicknaming me ‘Sarge’ as a pun on me being walking wounded, or ‘like a soldier’ he said. Their current drummer, Dan, was a temporary stand-in, so I understood, and was actually drummer for Mudhoney, whose first album I had on cassette – not that I mentioned it at the time. Krist towered over me as he lifted acres of black guitar strap over his shoulder, and his bass hung just below his hips. Their sound was thunderous, even more so than it was through the floorboards, and the abrasive tones were counteracted by catchy melodies; the same sound I first heard when Kurt lent me a copy of Bleach. Before I knew it, the onslaught was silenced, and Kurt was watching me expectantly for any indication of a verdict.

‘That was just… amazing. I hope you don’t mind me saying so but you sound better now than you do on the record.’

Kurt shook his head and grinned. ‘Yeah, well we’ve changed a few things and written some better songs since then. Plus it’s always better in front of your face.’

‘What’s the plan for now? Anything in progress?’

‘We’re gonna try and record a single this week whilst Tad are in the studio.’

‘Sounds a bit sneaky.’ I smirked.

‘Far more economical if they’re on a lunch break!’ Krist wagged his finger comically in my face. ‘Do you know how much these things cost young lady? We eat bread and margarine for the most part as it is. We’re peasants!’

‘You should ask me to order a pizza or something for you next time I call up for takeout.’ I offered to Kurt.

He shrugged. ‘I’m not too bothered…’

I turned to Dan and Krist and continued. ‘Well if you guys ever need anything, I rustle up a mean omelette. Great practice too, by the way. I really loved it.’

‘Thanks Saffy.’ I heard Krist reply as I headed somewhat slowly towards the stairs. I flicked them a thumbs up without looking back, and heard Kurt say to the other two in a muffled voice ‘That’s one fan closer to being the biggest band in the world.’

‘I wouldn’t doubt that for a second.’ I muttered under my breath as I pushed my door open with a loud creaking noise, smiling to myself.

 

-

 

‘Saffy, I need to tell you something.’ Kurt popped his head around the door, looking relatively alert for once. I knew he’d felt positive about the band recently, because he’d told me that lots of people had been asking for copies of the new single, which hadn’t even been pressed yet.

I put down the copy of maximumrocknroll I’d been reading and directed my full attention towards Kurt. ‘Go ahead.’

‘We’re going on tour in a couple of weeks, to California, and then back up to Portland, through Seattle and Vancouver. So I won’t be around for a while…’

‘Oh! That’s awesome. It’s no problem, I’ve got to work things out by myself at some point, haven’t I?’

‘Uh huh. Dan’s staying behind with Mudhoney and Dale’s joining us for the tour instead. Both Dan and Tobi have a key to my place, so if you need anything, there’s people around.’

‘Cool, okay.’

‘Also, I won’t be in tonight, Buzz has some party going on.’

‘Thanks for letting me know.’ I smiled vaguely at Kurt, but my face fell into a brooding expression as soon as he closed the door behind him. It was starting to get too samey… always being up here. Limping around was embarrassing, sure, but I really needed to find a way to get out more, especially when faced with the challenge of not having anyone around to help me fetch stuff; plus it sounded like I was missing out on some really great stuff going on in the town. I needed to find a distraction, something made clear to me in the few physio sessions I’d managed to attend. My father was pleasant enough, but I didn’t feel like I knew or trusted him enough for him to be much of a rock, and besides, we were never terribly close as a family. As for my brother, he had his own, very separate life, and was never much interested in me apart from when he was obliged to do some brotherly duty, like finding a roof to put over my head. I’d had a couple of boyfriends at high school who were sweet and compliant; good ones for a girl in her mid-teens. But I’d failed to get close to anyone since amicably splitting up with Carl a week before my seventeenth birthday, and although I enjoyed my own company, I felt as though solitude was starting to cross the line into real emotional loneliness. I needed a couple of _really_ close friends, or even just one. Easy enough to say, but so far I was only acquaintances with the people I’d come across in Olympia so far, and in order for any of them to become more significant, I knew I’d have to get down and get out.

 

-

 

I ventured downstairs and out onto the pavement for the first time in early August, and lugged an acoustic guitar with me in case generosity was tickling anyone’s pockets. Really, I was just insanely bored; busking was another thing to pass the long hours that I’d tried with some success back home. From time to time I’d leave the guitar in the porch and wander down to the convenience store on the corner, and gradually I was delighted to find I could walk a little faster and with more ease; it was less a matter of improved condition, and more of just an increased tolerance to the discomfort. By the time Nirvana returned from their tour, I’d managed to drag myself to some little shows and round to people’s houses, having made friends with an array of colourful personalities that included a girl named Carrie with a liberal smattering of freckles across her face and apricot-coloured hair. I was pleased to be able to greet Kurt at the front door when he returned to the flat, and upon seeing me he lowered the guitar case he was carrying and grinned.

‘How was Vegas? And San Diego? And didn’t you play in the city?’

‘Yeah, we played Seattle. You look pretty active.’ He held his hand up for a high-five, and I slapped it before taking his guitar case off him and taking it up the stairs for him.

‘I kind of conditioned myself into getting around a bit more… couldn’t bear the idea of being a recluse for much longer.’

‘Great. I’ll have to take you out sometime, show you what’s what. Unless you’ve already met people, that is.’

I turned back and smirked. ‘Nah, just a couple. I’d appreciate that, thanks.’ We reached the apartment door, and Kurt pushed open the unlocked door. ‘How’s Krist and Dale? Home in one piece?’

‘Yeah… but I don’t think Dale will play with us again. We’ve got a date at the Motor Sports Garage in the city in a week or two, and Dan will finally do a set with us.’

‘Isn’t Dan still a temporary guy?’

‘Yeah. We really need a proper drummer. Like a baby Dale, or maybe even better, but one just for our band. Dale’s with Melvins, there’s no way we’re getting him full time.’

‘Didn’t you speak to some people in Seattle?’

‘Yeah but they’ve got all their shit sorted… there’s no such thing as a spare drummer.’ Kurt sighed, turning towards the kitchen counter. ‘Coffee?’

I nodded, and appraised the state of the apartment. ‘I hope you’ve noticed I did some tidying for you… nothing major, just threw away all the festering crap you had scattered across the carpets.’

‘Hmm? Oh, yeah. Thanks Saff.’

He didn’t catch my sarcasm; I rolled my eyes and trudged towards my staircase. ‘I’m heading back up now. Guess I’ll see you this evening.’ Kurt waved a hand in my direction, and I retreated back into my shadowy flat and absorbed myself in a book for the rest of the day.

 

-

 

Despite my endeavours to move around more, I retreated back into my attic for most of the time since Nirvana’s tour ended, and all my efforts were reversed by a renewed lack of motivation. I was invited to a barbecue at Krist and Shelli’s house in Tacoma, but guiltily feigned more pain in my ankle than usual. The idea of social interaction on someone else's terms was not an appealing one just yet, especially when there would be someone I’d never met before hanging around; Kurt had mentioned that Buzz had found the band a new drummer, and that he’d be in Tacoma that evening.

‘Saffy, are you sure you don’t want to come?’ Krist asked again the day before, sprawled in Kurt’s armchair with his lanky limbs swung over the sides. ‘I mean, we have the car and everything, it’s not like I’m gonna carry you heroically for thirty miles… although admittedly it’s a little beat up.’

‘I’m okay, honestly. I’ll just have a quiet night in.’

‘Every night is a quiet night in for you.’ Kurt interjected from his cross-legged position in front of the coffee table.

I shuffled my feet on the threadbare carpet, feeling pathetic. That was because they'd never seen me do anything else. ‘I know.’

‘Man, if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I did speak to our new drummer over the phone, he sounds like a bit of a livewire. You’ll meet him soon enough, I guess.’

I nodded weakly, and fiddled with the ends of my hair. I hated myself for suddenly feeling so averse to socialising, realising I must seem like a real killjoy. A bloody recluse.

Either way, Kurt returned in high spirits the next evening, and I heard records blaring through the floorboards below me late into the night. Tobi’s voice mixed with the sounds up until half one, and then I heard her movements on the stairs indicating that she’d left. The music was turned down a little, and as I lay beneath the blankets on my bed, the stiff wooden slats pressing uncomfortably into my back, I was able to make out Kurt’s voice mumbling something. I wondered to myself if he was writing songs, but he didn’t seem to be singing. Suddenly I heard another voice waft up through the floorboards, and my half-closed eyes flew open in surprise; it was completely unfamiliar to me, and, although somewhat dulled by its journey through the creaking wood, very unique. Full of swooping animation, higher than both Kurt and Krist’s… punctuated with infectious laughter and Kurt’s occasional comment. I lay and stared at my hands, turning them over in the moonlight that streamed in the window, and listened to this new voice slow down, seeming to become more serious and probably affected by the late hour too.

Try as I might, I couldn’t conjure up a likely sort of face to match the sound. All characteristics were hidden – apart from a personality bursting with contagious energy.

 

-

 

‘Um… hello?’

I jumped and frantically sat upright, my limbs entangled in the blankets as the harsh sunlight streamed in through the window and blinded me momentarily. Shielding my eyes, I peered towards the door, and the source of the unfamiliar voice.

‘Are you Saffron?’ the voice repeated, somewhat falteringly.

‘I – yeah. Look, you’re gonna have to come further in, I can’t see who the hell it is.’

The blurry figure stepped into the centre of the room, making the floorboards creak. I swung my legs over the side of my bed and tugged my long shirt over my knees.

‘Kurt said to come say hi, so I brought you coffee.’ My eyes adjusted and focused on a striking face with large brown eyes, and a head of long, dark hair, parted slightly to the side. A lump formed in my throat as I realised I must look like a wreck.

‘Oh, nice. Thanks. You can call me Saffy by the way… I think my mother was trying to be lamely poetic when she named me. She moved to San Francisco in ‘67, you do the math.’

‘Okay. Well, I’m Dave.’ He handed me a blue tin mug, and gestured towards my armchair. ‘Do you mind?’ I shook my head as he took a seat.

‘You stayed over last night then, huh?’ I placed the mug on my bedside table before it burnt my fingers.

‘Well, I’m staying here sort of indefinitely now.’ Dave replied, gazing down at his scuffed Adidas shoes and fidgeting with the cuff of his sweater.

‘Oh! Well that’s… I didn’t know.’

‘Kurt didn’t tell you?’ I shook my head. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘No, it’s his business anyway. I’m just your neighbour. I can see how this arrangement must seem weird.’

Dave didn’t reply, and instead shuffled through my cassettes on the solid wooden table. I watched and appraised him a little more. His demeanour was relaxed, very easy-going; I guessed he was also a bit of a ‘livewire’ like Krist described. His jaw was well defined but not prominent, his brows were smoothly arched, lending an open quality to his face, and the ends of his chocolate-coloured hair were a yellowing blonde, probably the result of a bad bleach job. When he looked up and spoke again, I noticed admiringly that his mouth was very expressive.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but Kurt told me that you don’t really, uh, get out much. Either way, you’ve got some great music to occupy you… and all these books.’ He gestured towards my shelves.

‘My ankle is what stops me from getting out.’ I said bluntly, and Dave’s brow furrowed in confusion.

‘Oh. Is that what that is?’ He didn’t point, but I knew he meant the faded mess of pink scars on my ankle, criss-crossing up my shin.

‘Yeah. Motorbike crash.’

‘Badass.’ Dave suppressed a laugh, and I found the corners of my mouth turning upwards into a small smile. Normally people reacted so awkwardly when they realised how limiting it was. Nobody so far had reacted light-heartedly and turned it into a joke… and I didn’t mind at all. The same way I didn’t mind him poking around my stuff, just as he was doing again now, rifling through my books.

‘Did you go to college? This is some heavy shit…’ Dave waved a copy of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment in the air, and I got to my feet to join him under the window ledge. I was suddenly painfully aware of my unsteady gait as I walked towards him, but Dave’s eyes remained focused on mine, pleasantly unfazed.

‘I dropped out after I smashed up my ankle. Institutions don’t suit me anyway. What about you?’

‘Man, I dropped out before I even graduated. On the road with the band at seventeen! It was a good idea though. I was never going to do much else.’

I settled cross-legged next to him, delving through my cardboard boxes beneath the window, and our conversation stretched out easily for another half hour, just swapping banal little facts and introductions until Kurt finally interrupted us.

‘I knew it… he never stops talking, you know.’

Dave grinned in acknowledgment, revealing a huge set of pearly teeth. ‘I’m a real spazz, just give me a bowl and a few hours.'

It was true, though, that our conversation flowed incredibly easily. I’d never found it so easy to share information about myself, and Dave didn’t make it feel like a big deal. At the same time, I found out a lot about him too: life as a teenager in D.C, touring anecdotes with Scream, the band he’d just left and, naturally, favourite bands. I completely forgot that my hair was unwashed, that my eyes were darkly ringed, and that I was still in my nightshirt.

‘Are we heading to Tacoma now?’ Dave asked Kurt, who nodded.

‘Have a good barn practice.’ I smirked, and waved them out of my attic, pausing by the door until their voices faded down the staircase.

My ankle throbbed a little as I moved back towards the window, leaving the door wide open. The blue tin mug still stood on my bedside table, and when I touched it, it was cold, still full with coffee.

I slid down onto the bare floorboards and hugged my knees tightly in towards me, squeezing my eyelids together in glorious disbelief at my new acquaintance.

_She had eyes that burned right through me as soon as I stepped into the room, despite their lack of focus for a second. Her messy hair fell just so around her face, the early morning sun lighting up the fuzzy tangles and crowning her with a sort of angelic glow. Already this girl looked totally ethereal and I’d barely stared at her for more than ten seconds. Her gaze travelled up and down as she surveyed me, her large t-shirt was pulled over her knees, revealing bony and faintly scarred ankles. I hurriedly explained myself for waking her up, feeling relieved at the ease of her conversation._

_I left the room half an hour later, after Kurt interrupted us, and brought her up as we were loading the kit into the Dodge van._

_‘Damn, Kurt. You never told me she was cute as well.’_

_‘Yeah, well… she’s pretty smart too. You saw all those books, right?’_

_‘Uh huh.’ I nodded, concentrating on keeping my voice down in case she overheard us through her open loft window._

_‘It’s a shame she’s stuck up there. Not so much that she dropped out of college, but ‘cause I know she’d like to see Buzz and Dale’s shows.’_

_I didn’t reply, and took the driver’s seat in the van as Kurt shut the back door._

 

-

I didn’t see Dave again until the next day, as he and Kurt didn’t get into the flat until late the previous night, presumably having hung out at Krist’s place the whole day. Kurt went out late morning to talk to a local radio show, so when I descended into his apartment, I found Dave alone, sat with his back to me, cross-legged on the carpet and tuning a battered acoustic guitar in front of the TV, which was switched on but muted. I couldn’t help appreciating that the white t-shirt he wore exposed his slim arms, and his hair was clumsily scraped back into a low ponytail, but small strands still hung down into his face. Just as he tucked one behind his ear, I cleared my throat and his head whipped around in surprise.

‘Oh! Hey Saffy.’

I grinned at his awkward position, twisting around to meet my gaze, and crossed the room to crouch opposite him. ‘How was it with the other two last night?’

‘Good, I think. They don’t really comment on anything, anyway. Kurt was sort of quiet for a bit, I wasn’t sure if I’d pissed him off.’

‘That’s just the way he is, he sort of retreats for a bit. Like a mental version of what I do, into my attic.’

‘It’s very cosy. I don’t blame you.’

I snorted. ‘I do my best. I’d rather be out watching you play! When’s your first show?’

‘October, either the 10th or the 11th… I need to check. Northshore Surf Club, which I’ve heard of maybe once.’

‘Well, I’ll be there.’

His face lit up, much to my surprise. ‘Thanks! That’ll help, having someone I know a bit in the audience. I made a jackass of myself when I first arrived, so I hope people aren't against me or anything.’

I suppressed a laugh. 'What on earth did you do?'

'Insulted Tobi's singing. Before I met her, and found out she was going out with Kurt.' He had the decency to look a little ashamed.

'Ouch! That's a bum note alright. I doubt people hold grudges around here though. And you must be pretty good on the skins, 'cause Kurt said you were a ‘baby Dale Crover’, from what I heard.’

‘Dale’s a great drummer. I don’t… I taught myself on pillows, remember? I haven’t a clue how I compare. I try not to self-analyse.’

‘Show me what you can do on that guitar then. I assume you can play, you look like you know the frets from the strings.’

‘Oh jeez…’ Dave deftly picked out some Led Zeppelin intros and flicked some jazzy progressions off the strings. ‘I can’t fucking bend these strings…’

‘You can borrow my electric if you want to bend some.’

‘Wow! What have you got?’

‘A Danelectro. Sorta beat up, like most things around here, but it’s got a real smooth sound.’ I paused, and raised my eyebrows. ‘You could _eat_ music for breakfast, couldn’t you?’

‘Eat drums for breakfast, more like! And seems like you could too.’

‘Well, it’s a way of life, isn’t it? How about some real breakfast...’ I proceeded to fetch a bowl from the tiny kitchen and pour out some cornflakes. ‘Do you want somethi- eurgh!!’ I wrinkled my nose in disgust as I screwed the top back on the bottle of milk that was decidedly very off and flung it in the bin. ‘Why on earth can’t he keep tabs on the groceries?’

Dave grimaced from the doorway. ‘I think we’ll have to be Kurt’s clean-up team.’

‘Sadly, I think we will. But right now all I want is some milk on my cereal.’

‘I can go to the convenience store if you want… or maybe you’ll want to get out a bit. We can wander round the block.’

My heart sped up slightly. Out! With Dave!

‘Okay. I could do with the exercise.’

 

-

 

I dug my hands into the pockets of my jeans on the pavement outside, waiting for Dave while he checked the mail.

‘What’s with the bad bleach job anyway?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I was eighteen and stupid. It looked terrible and all I can do is let it grow out.’ He wore a regretful expression, and looked as though he was about to say something else, when I heard his name called in a high-pitched shout. He spun around on his heels just as a pretty, dark-haired girl crossed the road to join our side of the pavement.

‘Hey, how’s it going?’ Dave greeted her, breaking into a grin.

‘I was hoping I’d see you around.’ she replied breathlessly, before turning to me. ‘Is this the girl who couldn’t come the other night? It’s Saffy, right?’

‘Yeah, that’s me.’ I smiled weakly, still slightly bemused. Dave recognised this and jumped to my aid.

‘This is Kathleen, she was at Krist’s barbeque the other day.’

‘Oh! You’re friends with Tobi.’ I recognised her name from the conversations I’d had with Tobi.

‘That’s right.’ Kathleen replied brightly. ‘I haven’t seen you before though… you should come out with us some time – both of you, I mean. I know Dave’s kind of new here anyway.’

I shuffled my feet anxiously, trying desperately to think of a reply that wouldn’t sound trite. To my relief, Dave quickly answered for both of us.

‘Awesome! I guess we’ll see you around pretty soon.’

‘Sure.’ Kathleen nodded, waved, and strode away purposefully. I ignored the faint, restless nausea in the pit of my stomach as Dave and I continued to the convenience store; she was effortlessly charismatic and hugely likeable, in such a way that the notion of a person like that not liking you back was almost unbearable.

I noticed Dave smirking, and teased him a little about liking her, to which he protested only half-heartedly and blushed a good deal, and upon returning to the flat, we played cards and made brunch, before I climbed the stairs to my door again.

 

-

 

‘So are you guys up for coming round tonight?’

Kathleen was perched on the arm of the sofa, a week later after we first met, and already we were pretty tight friends. I was sat cross-legged on Kurt’s coffee table with a newspaper spread over my knees.

‘I don’t see why not. I’d definitely like to, and I’m sure Dave will too.’

‘That’d be great.’ She paused for a moment, swinging her legs back and forth. ‘How long have you known him for?’

‘Only since he arrived in Olympia, same as everyone else. Why?’

‘You two just seem pretty close. Like you’ve been friends for a long time.’

I grinned. ‘Well, he’s that kind of guy, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah. Have you seen him play yet? He’s unbelievable!’

I inadvertently felt a twinge of jealousy, just for having not seen him drum yet when apparently the rest of the world had.

‘I wish I could. But if I do okay this evening, I might try the next time they play.’ I’d already explained my inconvenient limb.

‘Well, don’t feel you have to stick around all night. Or you can stay over, so there’s no worry about getting a lift home.’

I agreed that this was probably best, and she bustled off, presumably to get her flat ready and well stocked. Kathleen’s ground floor place was ideal for this party tonight, if that’s what you could call it; people that were going were mostly musical types, slightly arty like most of the town’s population. It would be my first night out since arriving and I sincerely hoped it wouldn’t be prematurely spoiled by stubborn discomfort.

I climbed the stairs back to my flat and heaved a worn leather suitcase from under my bed, one I’d only opened once or twice and still not unpacked since I moved in. Now I flipped the lid onto the crocheted blankets, and stared with a mixture of distaste and wistfulness at the contents. Delving through layers of clothing, I felt heavily sequinned fabric, velvet and silky garments slide past my fingers. Overwhelmingly strong memories from San Francisco came gushing back as I relived particular moments in my mind that connected so closely with such painfully fancy clothing. Nevertheless, I knew what I was looking for, and I was nearly ready to give up when my fingertips brushed against something so buttery soft it could only be one thing. I lifted the shorts from underneath a gauzy skirt and laid them out on the bed in front of me. They were a vivid sort of postbox red suede, seamlessly gathered high at the waist and cleanly skimming the upper thigh, something I’d spotted in a shop window the previous winter and begged to have put aside until I had the money saved up after a month or two, and I finally bought them just a week before the accident. Yes, I decided now, they might distract from and compensate for my awkward gait.

I was still alone, since Kurt and Dave were practising in the barn in Tacoma, and the silence that pervaded the apartments was starting to creep me out. Rather than play something out loud, I put my headphones on and plugged them into my cassette player before settling into my armchair with a copy of The Bell. I became so thoroughly absorbed that the knock that came on my door about an hour and a half later startled me violently.

Dave’s head stuck out from behind the door with an eager expression on his face. ‘Whatcha reading now?’ He bounded over, looking for all the world like an excitable puppy, and peered at the cover of the paperback. ‘Who’s Iris Murdoch?’

‘She wrote a book, Dave. That means she’s an author.’

He snorted and shoved me lightly. ‘Don’t get sassy with me, young lady.’

I snapped the flimsy pages closed. ‘Kathleen’s having a party tonight, will you come?’

‘Really?’ Dave’s eyes lit up noticeably, and he stopped smirking. ‘Yeah, that’s… you’ll go too?’

‘Yeah. I mean, I won’t be doing much else if I’m stuck up here all evening.’

‘What time do you want to head over?’

I glanced at my wrist. ‘Within an hour. I’m gonna go and get ready… I doubt you’ll need all that time. Go ahead without me if you want, I can meet you guys over there.’

‘Will you be okay?’ Dave brows furrowed in concern.

‘Yes!’ I replied vehemently, suddenly irritated. ‘I’ll go slow. I’m not a fucking cripple.’

‘I didn’t…’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

Dave stared at me, eyes wide with confusion and, I suspected, hurt. I perceived a nagging feeling of shame in the pit of my stomach, and could neither bring myself to look him in the eye nor even say anything else. Dave spoke again first, but his words surprised me.

‘You don’t have to act like it doesn’t really hurt sometimes. And I don’t just mean physically. You’re allowed to be unhappy, even though you try so hard to show you’re feeling just fine. If the same thing happened to a weaker person, it would royally fuck them up – I know I’d go batshit crazy.’

And with that, he left, closing the door behind him with a soft click and leaving me with my thoughts once again. To my surprise, I didn’t feel offence, or anger, only a warm feeling of immense relief that actually, Dave was right.

 

-

 

I dressed my red shorts with a faded black t-shirt and left via Kurt’s door as usual, stopping by to check if Dave had stuck around, but it seemed he’d left before me. Although my own words were ‘Go ahead without me’, I still felt a twinge of disappointment that I wouldn’t have his company on the way. Blast being selfless.

The walk to Kathleen’s took under ten minutes, and her apartment was already inundated with all manner of people. Music blared through the door as I pushed it open, finding the hallway and living room positively crawling with people, some faces more familiar than others. I couldn’t see Dave, but before I took another step Kathleen jumped into my line of vision and threw her arms around me.

‘Saffy, you came! And you look great, oh my god.’

I blushed. ‘This place is jumping, Kat. I had no idea this thing would be so big.’

‘Well, you know, anything to escape Friday night boredom. Come on, let me get you a drink.’

I followed Kathleen to the kitchen, eyes continuously swivelling to see if I could catch sight of Dave. Watching as she poured me a beer, I asked if Carrie was there yet. I hadn’t seen her for weeks and had privately selected her as a potential good friend.

‘Yeah, she’ll be around somewhere. I think I saw her in the basement if you wanna find her.’ I thanked Kathleen for the drink, and wandered down the steps, searching for Carrie’s shock of apricot hair. Mercifully, she was far easier to find than Dave, and I waved in her direction before squeezing between groups of people to reach her.

‘Saffy, how’s it going? Here, have you met Zach?’ A curly-haired dude raised his glass at me, and so for the next couple of hours I drifted around with Carrie, introducing and being introduced, having one or two interesting conversations with people who had interests in common with mine, and generally socialising. It felt good, _really_ good, to feel normal again and acquire new friendships with so many people, whilst giggling at some odd personalities we encountered as well. The stopping and starting of movement, with frequent sitting-down stops meant my ankle didn’t bother me until about eleven. When it did start though, it was agony. I snuck away from the increasingly rowdy crowd of people cranking up Pixies songs louder and louder, in an attempt to find a place to rest more permanently, at least until people started leaving. The wall outside the apartment block was chilly and uncomfortable, especially with stoners blowing smoke in my face (weird hash or something, not even normal pot), so I returned to the flat. I knew there were two bedrooms in the place, and paused outside Kathleen’s to listen and see if it was occupied. Incessant giggling and screeching laughter clearly indicated that there were probably a load of girls drunkenly gossiping, so I moved on to the guest bedroom and paused outside there too. Only one voice was audible, and it was clearly Kathleen’s. After perhaps ten seconds, it seemed as though nobody was talking any longer, and straining my ears past the thumping music in the living room, I realised she was in there with a guy. I snorted with laughter quietly, and briefly considered interrupting them, but decided I’d probably be pretty irritated if I was in the same position. Sighing, I slid down the wall and planted myself on the carpet in the corridor outside, letting my eyes drift closed and gently rubbing my lower shin in an effort to soothe the piercing ache.

Barely five minutes later, clumsy shuffling and the click of the door forced my eyelids to snap open reflexively, and two figures stumbled out from behind the door.

And my heart dropped sickeningly.

 

-

 

At first all I really saw were his eyes, wide and chocolaty, staring me down sorrowfully. The visual contact seemed to last an eternity, but in actuality was only a fraction of a second. Kathleen seemed to be suitably more inebriated, and stepped away towards the kitchen without seeming to realise my presence. Dave followed after her, barely pausing, and I was left slouching against the wall, my breathing pace increasing alarmingly as I tried to absorb what I’d just seen.

Of course it was totally natural they’d get together… how stupid of me to be surprised. I knew he liked her. The fact that I’d reacted so violently was slightly more alarming, and I really hadn’t the mental stamina to dissect how I felt about that.

I heaved myself to my feet and made my way outside again. The stoners’ pot smoke didn’t bother me this time, nor the cold brick wall pressing against the backs of my knees. I felt sort of numb all over.

 

-

 

‘Saffron?’

‘Don’t use my full name.’ I snapped instinctively.

‘Saffy. Look, I… er, I was wondering if you’re doing okay.’

‘Just a little tired, is all. I barely saw you tonight. I was looking for you.’

I still hadn’t made eye contact with him, but my tone of voice softened. In my peripheral vision I saw him sit down beside me on the wall, shoulders hunched over and face obscured by locks of hair that fell out of behind his ear.

‘I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.’

 _What, my ankle or my pride?_ ‘Only aching. I’ll be fine in a bit.’ I swung my legs against the wall, and Dave offered me a cigarette, which I grudgingly accepted.

‘Have you had much to drink?’ he asked.

‘No. I don’t drink very often anyway. I spent most of the night with Carrie.’

Silence again, although companionable. The expression on his face was blank, unreadable.

‘I’m gonna go and find Kathleen.’ I stood and walked back to the house again, without looking back. The flat had grown quieter as people began to trickle out and set off home. I found Kathleen on the sofa, head back and eyes closed, nodding along to the muffled music; at the sight of her, I didn’t feel jealous like I thought I would. She was still the same good friend I had, and for all I knew, perhaps she really liked Dave back. I grinned, and poked her shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open. ‘Saffy, you’re still here…’ Her voice slurred, and she was clearly pretty plastered.

‘Yeah, I am. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Will you…’ She grasped my sleeve groggily, ‘…will you stay over?’

‘Yes. Just like we agreed.’

‘Thanks, Saff. You’re a good friend.’

 

-

 

After I’d helped Kathleen get to bed, I checked the whole apartment over in case anyone was still lingering, comatose. I was relieved to find there wasn’t too much mess, something completely unusual in comparison to the few parties I went to in San Francisco. As I went to the front door to lock up the flat, I peered outside and spotted a lanky figure on the wall outside. Realising it must be Dave, I felt a twinge of pity, and left the door on the latch before approaching him.

‘Hey.’ I said softly. He turned, and I saw he was smoking a cigarette.

‘Hi.’ he replied, stubbing it out on the wall.

‘It’s pretty cold. Are you going home soon, or crashing here?’

‘I’ll walk back, I think Kurt and Tobi have gone back anyway so the place isn’t empty.

‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. Be careful.’

‘What, in this town?’ Dave pulled an adorable face, and I smirked.

‘I’ll tell Kat you say bye.’ I pulled him into a short, tight hug and, once I reached the doorstep, turned and waved to him as he made his way back down along the street. Idling in the doorway a little longer, I watched his steady black silhouette fade and strengthen intermittently between the orange streetlamps. He seemed sober, I reflected, but at this hour it was difficult to tell.

 

-

 

I looked on for something like two weeks, determinedly enjoying their company with genuine vivacity and fiercely burying my own selfish pangs of envy. I kept my word and came to watch Dave’s first time performing with Nirvana at the Northshore Surf Club, and watched in utter disbelief and amazement as he drummed.

The fact I was only now watching him made me instantly regret not making him show me his drumming previously. His playing was mesmerising; I’d thought he was seriously good on guitar, but now I stood at the side of the stage, feet glued to the grimy floor and face wearing an embarrassingly dumbstruck expression.

‘Enjoy the show?’ Dave asked breathlessly once I’d followed him to the poky dressing room at the back of the venue.

‘I’d have to be blind and deaf not to.’ I passed him a towel, struggling to avert my eyes from his sweaty torso. His face flushed with delight, and he seemed pleased at my verdict. ‘You seem prepared for next week.’

They’d booked a week-long UK tour starting on the 20th, which Kurt had already informed me of for practical purposes, but I knew I’d miss Dave more than was sensible.

‘Yeah, I feel more assured, you know? It’s a relief, this show. I know it’s going to be alright now.’

I nodded, and filled a glass of water from the squeaky tap in the corner.

It was still only early evening, as the show had been an afternoon one, and the sky still a pale, watery blue by the time I returned to my flat. The dusty floorboards creaked as I wandered through the door, and I flung the window wide open almost immediately, pausing for a moment to relish the scent of the honeysuckle flowers in a bowl on my table and the smell of freshly cut grass drifting through my permanently open window.

 

-

 

By the time I crawled under my covers that night, it seemed like the band had left a week ago rather than just that morning. I felt their absence more keenly in the evening, especially Dave’s, when usually he climbed my staircase and kept me company for half an hour. As I knelt in front of my cupboard and folded my clothes, I kept expecting to turn and see him sprawled in my armchair, alternating between telling witty anecdotes, asking me peculiar questions and occasionally falling into a pensive silence.

I dug out my Danelectro guitar from its cupboard beneath the window ledge, and appraised it nostalgically, observing the cracked paintwork and rusted pick-ups. Propping it up on my knee, I pursed my lips and tested the strings, shaking my head at their roughness beneath my fingers. It would need work being done, I decided, and resolved to take it to the music repairs shop the next day.

The day dragged immensely. After I’d waved them off in the clanking Dodge van, I knew I’d have to find something with which to preoccupy myself other than playing my guitar on the pavement and drawing copiously. The most obvious and practical answer was to get a job, something I achieved with a surprising degree of ease after only a week of scouting around in Seattle, as a secretary in a small recording studio. This suited me for it involved very little work on my feet, and I spent most of my time sat at a desk answering phone calls and faxing stuff. My pay was on the low side, but compared to having practically no income for several months, I felt wealthier than I had in a long time.

The next day, I met up with Carrie for lunch and she persuaded me to accompany her on a long weekend in Seattle; although I appeared to accept grudgingly, I was genuinely rather pleased to have a distraction. The truth was, even when I picked up a book, flipped open my sketchpad or simply passed through Kurt’s eerily empty flat on my way out of the apartment, I could never shake the thought of Dave from my head. His face popped into my mind unbidden, phrases and little laughs that I loved echoed in my ears.

_This was getting a little out of hand, and I needed a distraction._

 

-

 

‘Brighten up, Saffy!’ Carrie laughed, one hand on the steering wheel and the other batting away her hair, which was being whipped into her face by the strong breeze. ‘Can you smell that in the air? Afternoon sunshine. Excitement. Adventure.’

‘Oh, shut up!’ I snorted, dangling my hand out of the open window. ‘You make this sound revolutionary.’

‘That’s the point, Saff. It’s an adventure when I can finally get you to dress up and let me take you for a night out.’

I shuddered, but flashed her a grin. ‘Just don’t make me wear heels.’

‘What, and have you slumped in a chair for hours on end? I’ve got common sense. So I won't, at least not as such.’

‘What do you mean, ‘as such’?’

‘You’ll see!’ She reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a cassette, deftly flipping the tape out of its case with one hand and slotting it into the car stereo.

‘Carrie, we’re talking and the wind is howling.’

‘Whatever. This is the new Dinosaur Jr album, so pay attention.'

We bickered good-humouredly until we reached the city, whose tall buildings glittered and bathed in the unusually intense golden light from the setting sun. Carrie had kept most of the details of our short stay a secret from me (even packing my suitcase), apart from informing me of my share of the costs, so I was surprised when she pulled up outside a small but elegant looking hotel.

‘Jeez… you didn’t ask me for much when you booked this.’

‘Well, it’s nothing special. Just comfy, and actually clean for once.’ I narrowed my eyes, considering her words an understatement, and followed her into the lobby.

Our room was a comfortable size, featuring two single beds, an en-suite bathroom, television and armchair. I poked around the tray of complementary coffee and hot chocolate, inspecting the snacks while Carrie pulled our clothes out of the hold-all and strew them across her bed.

‘Check it out,’ I held up a cellophane-wrapped biscuit. ‘Custard creams.’

‘Ew. You’re welcome to them. More importantly than your biscuits, what do you think of these?’ Carrie held up a pair of electric blue boots.

‘Christ. They look positively violent.’

‘You bet.’ She threw them at me, along with my red suede shorts and a cropped black long-sleeved top. ‘You looked cute in those shorts at Kathleen’s, I thought you’d be happy to wear them again.’

I had to agree, and was glad that it looked as though I’d have a comfortable evening, at least. It was strange to have someone picking through and commenting on my sartorial outfit choices; these things were never high on my list of priorities whilst living in the company of Kurt and Dave.

It took little more than ten minutes to change and get ready, as all I did was pull out my hair from its hastily plaited state. For the time being, my ankle seemed virtually painless – the adrenaline must have been making me blessedly oblivious. Meanwhile, my mood began to improve and rise as surely as mercury in a thermometer.

 

-

 

‘Nothing but sleek and shiny yuppies here.’ I commented, as Carrie’s foot tapped loudly on the foot-rest of the bar stool. 'I feel like I'm gonna get poked in the eye with a starched lapel.'

‘You’re right,’ she replied. ‘Drinks are too expensive as well. I think we should move on to our next stop.’ She ashed her cigarette and drained the last of her cosmopolitan, gesturing towards me to follow suit.

We’d ended up primarily visiting a rather high end cocktail bar for pre-drinks before what Carrie called ‘the main event’. I felt a nagging apprehension as I grabbed my jacket and followed her out the door, but quashed it in my mind. Carrie knew what sort of thing I’d like, after all.

Thankfully, she dragged me a couple of blocks down the road and along an alleyway, towards a loud, deep thumping sound which emanated from a busy club – and definitely the sound of fuzzed out guitars. I breathed out with relief and Carrie watched my expression with satisfaction as she paid the three dollar entry to the doorman. I ducked under the brick archway and climbed some steps up to a packed room, where an excellent band played onstage. I gravitated towards the warmly lit bar lining the back wall, ordered drinks for both Carrie and I, and turned to take in the music. It only took about two minutes until I turned back to the bar again for my next drink, and I regret to confess I remember very few details after that point – although I can outline the main events.

Carrie was keen to speak to someone she knew backstage, so I ended up following her through the stage door something like an hour later. We ended up gathering in the largest dressing room backstage, Carrie perched on the singer’s lap and other familiar faces from both the audience and stage laughing and pouring drinks. A less scruffy man with floppy blonde hair put a Black Sabbath album on the stereo, and I gravitated towards the music, vaguely recognising him as the drummer.

‘Hi.’ I smiled at him, feeling mellow and confident. ‘You guys did a good show tonight.’

His eyes met mine, and he broke into a broad grin. ‘Thanks! Do you know the other guys?’ He gestured towards the rest of his band, spread among the crowd.

‘Nope, my friend Carrie took me for a night out. I think she knows some of you.’

He glanced over my shoulder, and his face creased into a smile. ‘Yeah, I recognise her. Do you live in the city?’

‘Olympia, an hour out.’

‘I’ve heard the music down there’s good.’

‘It is!’ I paused, before continuing with ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard of Nirvana?’ and feeling like a staunch advocate for the band.

Floppy Hair was happy to keep conversation with me for most of the night, and I found him wonderfully gentle and witty. When he invited me outside for a smoke break, I stared, mesmerised at the wisps of tobacco that curled from between his beautifully shaped lips, and when his eyes met mine, it came as no surprise when he leant forward and kissed me.

Such close human contact gave me a heavenly rush of euphoria and relieved a tension I hadn’t known existed, and I craved his welcoming, almost oddly familiar touch. I twisted his hair between my fingers as my hands clasped behind his neck, both our cigarettes falling to the ground, still smouldering.

When I returned to find Carrie, she was somewhat preoccupied with the band’s singer, though when I caught her eye we exchanged a sort of unspoken understanding. It looked as though neither of us would be returning to the hotel that night.

 

-

 

The sheets caught between my legs, prompting me to wake and roll onto my back. My right calf brushed against another limb that was not my own, and I froze as the events of the previous night flooded back to me in a torrent of confusion.

Floppy Hair was clearly already awake, as he rolled to face me and propped himself up on his forearms, the blonde mess of his hair skimming his refined cheekbones.

‘You look just as cute as you did last night.’ His comment prompted a jolt of pleasure through my mind, and his soft, lazy smile immediately set my mind at ease. It didn’t seem like this morning after would be as awkward as I was anticipating.

‘I don’t feel as cute.’ I joked.

He hesitated a little. ‘You do remember everything, don’t you?’

‘Yes. It was… wonderful. Honestly.’ My words were the truth, admittedly. I recalled how achingly gentle he was, simultaneously seeking out every pleasurable spot upon my body.

‘Mm. It was.’ He sat up turning to dangle his legs over the side of the bed and pulling on a pair of boxers. His hair fell forward to reveal the nape of his neck, and his back held smooth, taut definition without being overly toned. Only his arms gave him away as a drummer, and I instantly thought of Dave. Did he have one night stands like this when he toured with Kurt and Krist? Probably, I reasoned. _I’d have liked to have been with him last night._

No. I mustn’t think that, not whilst I was still lying curled up in another man’s bed and watching him dress casually. And especially not while Dave was dating one of my closest friends.

 

-

 

I left Floppy Hair drummer’s apartment, which lay on the outskirts of Seattle, at about midday after we shared a companiable breakfast and he offered me a lift back to the hotel. I didn’t get out of the car immediately, instead turning back to him and kissing him tenderly on the lips.

He smiled shyly as I pulled away, and said ‘If you’re ever in town again, let me know. Not necessarily for all this, but you’re just… lovely to have around.’

I flushed slightly. ‘I’d like that, but I realise we don’t even know each other’s names.’

‘Ah well, of course. So?’

‘I’m Saffy. I’d give you my number, but our phone line got cut off. If you give me yours I can always use a payphone to call.’

‘Very sensible. Okay.’ I waited as he paused to scramble for a scrap of paper and pen. ‘Right, here’s the number,’ I gazed down at the crumpled Wal-Mart receipt in his hand. ‘And when you ring up, ask for Matt Cameron. That’s me.’


	2. Morse Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After her weekend in Seattle with Carrie, Saffy's mood is rising and her life is gradually piecing itself back together. Christmas is fast approaching, and after a revelation from Kathleen, the New Year arrives accompanied by new opportunities - but only some of them are feasible.

My legs dangled over the arm of Kurt’s splitting armchair as I twirled the receipt round and round in my fingers, taking care not to smudge the carefully penned number and scrawled name, ‘Matt’. So Floppy Hair had a nice name.

Carrie was perched on the back of the sofa, pouring copious amounts of sugar into her coffee.

‘Saff, Chris was so good it was unbelievable… and not just onstage.’ She giggled and her eyes glazed over dreamily. ‘Honestly though, they fucking killed it. Soundgarden, man. They’re gonna make it big.’

My eyes widened, and I spun around from my horizontal position to sit upright in the chair. ‘You reckon?’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised. Apparently there were a couple of big-time A&R men at the show that night, so you never know. People love them.’

I frowned, and moved to sit next to Carrie on the sofa. ‘Can I tell you something really… I mean, I don’t think I should be thinking this right now, given current, uh, circumstances.’

‘Saffy. It’s me. Just spill it.’

‘I feel bad about last night. I didn’t until we got back here.’

‘Well that’s to be expected. I doubt you do this kind of stuff very much.’

‘No, Carrie, I feel almost guilty.’

‘For whom?’ Her eyes widened momentarily. ‘Saff, who did you cheat on?!’

‘Nobody! Jesus, no. This sounds totally stupid, but I don’t know how I’ll face Dave, of all people.’

I could the colour steadily drain from my face as she hesitated, eyes like saucers and dropping her gaze to the ground. Suddenly she shrieked with laughter and threw her face into her hands.

‘Oh man, everyone wants a piece of Dave. We’re all jealous of Kathleen, trust me!’

‘Seriously?’

‘You of all people know what an adorably gorgeous goofball he is. I know he’s always visiting your room. Surely that means something. However... this Chris guy had better call back. I wouldn’t mind getting together with him. He’s more than just a good night’s time.’

I smiled, somewhat comforted. ‘I can see that happening. I remember him pouring me a drink – he seemed very gentlemanly.’

‘That’s beside the point. Look, just don’t worry about things with Dave. He’s away for the time being, and nobody has any clue what goes on in that silly head of his anyway.’

I knew exactly what she meant. One always got an impression that he was permanently holding back, that he had more depth than anyone could really imagine. Or that was my impression, anyway. Perhaps I just loved to see him hugging his knees to his chest underneath my window, peacefully tackling another weighty tome off my bookshelf and tossing it back to me, giving up after a page or two.

I felt like a pile of rocks sat at the bottom of my stomach, threatening to pummel me from within. It was like last night had never happened. I hankered after Dave's company.

 

-

 

November blew in bitingly chilly, and Olympia’s streets became leaf-strewn and oppressive; I cut my hair a bit shorter to get rid of the fading blue-ish ends, and kept it tucked under a woolly hat almost permanently.

I began to make a habit of taking walks through town and dropping into the dusty bookstore a few blocks down from the apartment building, purchasing a worn-out paperback and sitting in the park for an hour or so to read, usually swathed in my huge black wool winter coat and a pom-pom scarf. If it was raining, I either took sanctuary in the steamed up coffee shop or wandered back to the flat. This was still only a weekend thing, and to make getting into work easier, I made monthly payments towards the car I’d salvaged from some old guy’s back yard, a Cortina nearly eaten up with rust but repaired nicely by the local garage. It was the garage that I was having to pay back bit by bit, seeing as the elderly man let me have the car for free if I mowed his lawn at the same time.

All this working for myself was hugely gratifying, if no less tiring, but mind over matter and all that – and the change had been so gradual I hardly noticed it, but by the time Nirvana came back from Europe, my limp was barely palpable.

 

-

_‘Saffy!’ Dave yelled, throwing open the door to her attic in anticipation. The sun streamed through the window and lit up the dust he’d disturbed. ‘Oh. Kurt?’_

_‘Yeah?’ His voice sounded muffled from beneath the staircase._

_‘Saff isn’t here. Do you reckon she’s out?’_

_‘Um… must be. It’s eleven am on a Saturday, I wouldn’t be surprised.’_

_I would, Dave thought. Unless drastic changes had taken place, that just didn’t seem like her. Although he wouldn’t begrudge her a break from the four brown walls of her stifling room._

_The tour was incredible, really an eye-opener. Touring with Krist and Kurt was a very different experience to touring with Scream, in some unidentifiable way, and although Dave had been to Europe before, he’d never performed such full shows. The venues were still kind of pokey, but the crowd was absolutely crazy. He’d never found being in a band more of a thrill in his life; the adrenaline was permanently coursing through him._

_Dave found that whenever he found a really rare record in a shop, or heard an amazing band in a club, his thoughts always turned to Saffy. He wanted to tell her everything he saw or heard, share all those exciting details with her. As they touched down onto the runway at the airport, the thought of Kathleen flashed into his mind, and he felt his heart drop; at any other time, he’d have been headlong into a relationship with her. She was certainly very attractive, there was no doubt about that, and he couldn’t put his finger on anything she lacked in personality, but it was continually Saffy who jumped to the forefront of his mind, who possessed some sort of magnetic quality. Despite being so completely book-smart, she wasn’t intimidating at the same time. Delicate and strong altogether, totally irresistible._

_Dave climbed back up the stairs to her room and peered around the door, observing the layout. Her solitary bookshelf was now positively groaning under the weight of the immense number of books, which seemed to have grown in quantity since he left. He wandered over and prised a copy of ‘1984’ away, thumbing the worn pages and sliding it back into the stack. Her clothes sat on the shelves of a modified TV cabinet, all very practical._

_A loosely gathered pile of magazines sat in a box beside the armchair, and Dave crouched down to flick through them. Picking one out, he settled into the chair and read bits intermittently, struggling to keep his eyes open. The afternoon was grey and dim, and although frost lingered around the window, Saffy’s room was still warm and relentlessly encouraged him to doze off._

 

-

 

I kicked off my boots in the stairwell, not wanting to get the apartment filthy from me tramping in all sorts of grime from the wet park. When I saw Kurt’s door was slightly ajar, I burst in and yelled ‘GUYS!’

‘Saff! What’s up?’ Kurt appeared from the kitchen and high-fived me.

‘Been for a slow walk, as usual. How was it then?’

‘Awesome. Crowds were off their heads, kids queuing up for whole blocks.’

‘Damn! That's incredible. Did Krist enjoy it?’

‘The man was in his element. Dave’s around somewhere, I think he’s been looking for you.’

My heart almost leapt into my mouth, and I nodded, slinging my coat over my shoulder as I turned to climb up the stairs. During the week I’d seen copious amounts of posters everywhere announcing that Fugazi were playing a big show in Portland at the weekend, and the idea came to me to ask Dave if he wanted to check it out.

I pushed open the door to my flat and spotted Dave in the armchair, chin on his chest and a magazine on the floor. His hand dangled down the arm, indicating he’d been reading it and then dropped it; he was totally out for the count. I grinned and hesitated a little before waking him, setting my coat and bag down as quietly as possible. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look so peaceful before – even pot only made him more hyperactive.

‘David.’ I poked his elbow. He stirred a little. ‘Ground control to Major Tom.’ His eyelids fluttered open and widened as he looked up at me.

‘Saffy? Ugh… I’m sorry, I got so comfy!’ He got to his feet unsteadily and flung his arms around me. I breathed in rapidly, taking in his smell of cigarettes combined with plain soap and the wind outside.

‘You’ve showered since arriving, then. You don’t smell as atrocious as Kurt did before.’

He smiled broadly. ‘Thankfully, yeah. You look really… I don’t know. Well. Happy.’

‘Thanks, I think.’

‘No, really. How have you been?’

‘I got a job as a secretary at a studio in Seattle, got a car, been out with Carrie. It’s been nice. Tell me all about Europe though!’

'It was even better than the first time I went. I ended up trashing a couple of kits... accidentally on purpose. They have amazing coffee in Paris, but we didn't get to taste much else in terms of European food, 'cause of a couple of dodgy promoters, but we made ends meet, which was the main thing.'

'And the van didn't break down?'

'Just the once, in England. But the repairs guys are so fucking speedy! And we had enough for gas, which was a relief... I picked up a few cassettes in Amsterdam, so we listened to Fugazi for most of the drive time.'

At his mention of the band, I took initiative to drop my request into the conversation. 'Hey, speaking of Fugazi, they're playing Portland on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to drive up with me and watch the show?'

Dave's face lit up momentarily before falling slightly, and my stomach did an agonising loop-the-loop.

'Ah… I’m seeing Kathleen on Saturday night.’ His voice was relaxed and slightly flippant, but he avoided making eye contact. 'I’d love to go with you normally, you know I would. The timing’s just not great.’

I smiled weakly in a poor attempt to hide my disappointment. ‘It’s fine, I can ask Carrie.’

‘I’m sorry-’

‘There’s no need to be.’ I pulled a drawer open and withdrew some half-finished drawings. ‘I need to finish some of these off. You can stay and play some music if you’d like.’

We both knew I was changing the subject, but not another word was spoken about it, and I took Carrie to the Fugazi show instead.

 

-

 

I’d felt similarly conflicted before, to the effect that I was able to dispel those sorts of thoughts fairly quickly now. It did me no good to dwell on missed opportunities or wonder how things might have been had he thought of me differently at the time. Although I wanted to, it was entirely impossible to feel at all jealous, and I especially loved going to see Kathleen play Bikini Kill shows with Tobi.

My Danelectro returned from the guitar repairs shop, and I immediately offered it to Dave to practise on, which he eagerly accepted. As a result, I often heard him playing around with plugging it into Kurt’s amp during mid-mornings when I was home at weekends; by the time Christmas came around, I could make out distinct, original parts he’d put together. I knew he wrote a little of his own music, but I’d never heard any, and never really asked either. For now, it was enough to immerse myself in the minimalistic versions that travelled through walls and floorboards.

Kathleen insisted on taking me out one morning in the first week of December, and I was looking forward to going out with a real purpose, rather than dawdling aimlessly. A light dusting of snow covered the pavement as we strode out, making the chilling weather a little easier on the eye.

‘You know, you’re welcome to come to our practices anytime. It’d be nice to get a second opinion.’ Kathleen was telling me as she blew on a large mug of hot chocolate in one of the cafés on the way to the park.

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that.’ I picked semi-melted marshmallows off the top of my own mug. ‘Your last gig was crazy.’

She grinned. ‘You reckon? I did encourage a whole bunch of people to come along to boost numbers a bit… you play guitar, don’t you?’

‘Sort of.’

‘I saw you got yours repaired. We could do with a second guitarist if you felt up to it?’

I contemplated her suggestion warily. ‘Oh man… I would. Only I couldn’t tour, I’ve got to keep this job. I can do it around town.’

‘I get it. That’s fine, it would be totally useful, plus we wouldn’t have to hunt around or audition anyone.’ Kathleen grinned and tapped my arm. ‘Anyway, this wasn’t what I particularly wanted to mention. I heard you had a good time in the city a couple of weekends back.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Aw, I bet Carrie’s been mouthing off about that.’

‘Well, it sounds like you saw a good show.’

‘Yeah, that was really awesome.’

‘And the bonus?’ she asked mischievously.

‘Yes. That too.’ I blushed.

‘So? Did you like him enough to call?’

‘I like him, just… I haven’t called. I guess I should. I don't really know what's stopping me.’

'I do.' Her expression dropped to a more serious one, and she leant forward. ‘Saffy. I’m gonna be blunt. I know you like Dave.’ I spluttered, but she grinned again. ‘Don’t try to deny it! And don’t worry, Carrie didn’t say a thing. I can tell. I’ve known you for six months, it’s not exactly hidden in Morse code.’

I swung back on my stool, agonised. ‘It’s not a big deal! I swear. Is it that obvious?’

‘No. He just so clearly loves your company and you seem to value him more than most people do platonic friends. More than I do, anyway, and we’re supposed to be going out. I was thinking of breaking things off, like, tomorrow. Or at least this week.’

‘Not-’

‘Nothing to do with that! Honest. There’s others I like, and Dave’s sweet, but there’s nothing special between us. You should totally go for it.’

I was still reeling a little, but a tiny aspect inside of me was leaping for joy. Another, slightly larger part, was imbued with plenty of doubt and apprehension. ‘Are you sure? Are you one hundred percent on that?’ I almost bit my tongue in haste.

‘Yeah!’ She threw her head back and laughed, easing my mind second by second. ‘Damn, if I knew you felt this strongly I’d have done something sooner, instead of stringing him along!’ She stood and slung her coat over her shoulders. ‘C’mon, let’s traipse around the music store. There’s a couple of singles I’ve had my eye on.’

 

-

 

Christmas arrived with alarming speed, but I relished the opportunity to celebrate something and break the monotony of grey, bone-chilling days sat at my desk watching morose-looking jazz players and session musicians traipse in and out of the studio.

Kathleen appeared to have ended things with Dave within the week, although he gave no indication, and I only knew for sure when Kathleen mentioned it to me in passing.

Dave went back to Virginia the week before Christmas to see his family, and I was pleasantly surprised when he gave me his number in case I wanted to call at some point while he was gone. I ended up calling from the phone booth on the corner midway through the week, and felt a little apprehensive about who would answer the phone, seeing as he was staying at his mother’s house.

 _Please let it be Dave, please._ ‘Hello?’ I breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his confident greeting and slid down the glass wall of the booth, slouching on the floor with my knees bent.

‘Dave, it’s Saffy. How’s it going?’

‘Awesome! I’ve seen lots of old friends, even my grandma. Think I’ve completed the familial duties for this year anyway.’

‘Grandmother Grohl, cute.’ I heard a woman call him excitedly in the distance, announcing she’d found an old photo album. ‘Speaking of which, sounds like your mom is rooting stuff out. Make sure you bring some extra embarrassing pictures back with you.’

‘Just you wait. I had some kickass bowl cuts as an eight year old, I’ll see what I can rustle up.’

‘Have you been out at all or has it been nothing but nostalgia?’

‘I went to the 9:30 with my old friend Jimmy, actually. You’d have loved it.’

‘I bet, I've heard so much about that place.’ A sharp volley of knocks made me jump, and I looked up to see a grumpy-looking middle-aged man frowning down at me from outside the phone booth. I scowled and gave him the finger before turning my back again.

‘Saff? What’s that?’

‘Some miserable dude wanting to use the phone. I think he’s pushed off now.’

‘Oh yeah, I forgot you’d be in the box. You must be fucking freezing, I don’t wanna keep you hanging around.’

‘Nah, I’m fine. Thanks for giving me the number though, it’s nice to talk to you.’

‘Yeah, well, kick some ass tomorrow night.’ Before he left, I told Dave I’d be playing a Christmas show with Kathleen and co.

‘I’ll be sure to. Give the Grohl clan my best wishes.’

‘My mom knows about you already. Don’t think I mentioned that.’

‘You didn’t, actually.’

‘You should meet her some time, she’d love to fuss over you and cook you dinner. D.C. is the other side of the country, granted, but one of these days perhaps.’

My heart thudded unnaturally for a couple of seconds. ‘I wish I could offer the same, but in the meantime you’ll have to be happy with my omelettes. Remind me when you’re back?’

‘Tuesday. Which is…’

‘Christmas Eve Eve. Awesome, I’ll see you soon then.’

‘Okay. Stay rad.’

‘Bye, Dave.’

I heard the dissonant click of the receiver as he hung up, and paused, listening to the drone of the empty line. Talking to Dave was a comfort; I was glad now that I’d taken advantage of having a way of contacting him whilst he was away. Somehow I felt more strongly about speaking to him now than I did when he was on tour, and even then I was happy with the postcard from Amsterdam, carrying just the words ‘Pot is nicer in cookies. D xo.’ and a hand-drawn happy sun on the reverse of a field of tulips. My muscles were turning numb from having crouched in one position for so long, and I heaved myself to my feet, rubbing some feeling back into my bottom.

I definitely preferred San Franciscan winters.

 

-

 

Dave greeted me with wild enthusiasm when he returned, just as I’d begun to decorate Kurt’s flat. Kurt himself wasn’t terribly keen on my idea of putting tinsel around the place, but he humoured me for a bit. I was balanced on a rickety wooden chair and wearing a paper-chain around my neck when Dave burst in through the door mid-afternoon.

‘Everybody feeling festive?’ He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted me off the chair, and I thought my knees would turn to jelly before he planted me back on the floor and gave me a quick hug. The weather, which was growing increasingly tempestuous, had both Kurt and I feeling pretty down, but Dave’s mood was infectious and within half an hour Kurt was wearing a lopsided Santa hat whilst licking strips of paper to make even more paper chains.

I’d already bought stuff for everyone, unsure whether present-giving was a big deal or not in Olympia. Either way, I thought it was best to be on the safe side, and though I couldn’t quite afford to buy everyone special things, a trawl around some thrift shops had thrown up a few funny little objects, books and so on. On the twenty-fourth, I sat up most of the night messily wrapping it all up in old magazines and brown string, and crept downstairs at half one to put them under the weird shrub we’d decorated and called a tree. I didn’t know if Kurt was into all of this sort of thing – I thought Dave would be, seeing as he’d come straight from living at home – but my last Christmas had been spent in hospital, having my lower leg reconstructed. During my teenage years they’d been pretty apathetic affairs, but I still had faint memories of more colourful, bombastic celebrations from before my mom died. Now I was living on my own for good, I wanted to take Christmas back into my own hands.

As I padded across the room in my socks, I heard a mumble from the sofa bed, and started in shock. I’d thought Dave would be asleep by now, but it appeared otherwise.

‘Saffy? Is that you?’ I tugged my t-shirt over my knickers and the tops of my thighs as the lamp switched on; in my haste to cover up, I resorted to diving to the floor with a bump and sitting cross-legged. Dave’s face peered over the top of the sofa. ‘What. The. Hell.’

I pressed a finger to my lips before crawling towards the sofa arm. ‘Just dropping off my contribution.’ I whispered, holding the little parcels aloft with my free hand.

‘How adorable,’ he smirked, rolling onto his stomach under the blanket. ‘Have you slept at all?’

‘No. I think I’m going delirious.’

‘Yeah, well, your eyes are like saucers.’

I gave up trying to pull my shirt down, and touched my face gingerly, unsure whether I was hallucinating or not. ‘Uh huh… I’m gonna get to bed. Fatigue, all that… you know what I mean.’

‘Okay, if you’re sure you can drag yourself back up the stairs. Unless you want some pillows to kip down here?’

‘Nope.’ I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes. ‘How about I just…’ I mumbled, stumbling around the sofa and collapsing onto the cushion and Dave’s chest. I was mostly out of it, but I felt Dave tense up and relax as I buried my face in his shoulder, uninhibited only in exhaustion.

 

-

 

‘Aw, look at that.’

Kurt’s languid voice disturbed me from my sleep, and in the space of about half a second I realised where I was and promptly rolled off Dave, landing ungainly on the carpet with my arms and legs askew.

‘Jesus! I was so-’

‘You were totally out for the count.’ Dave interjected, and my gaze snapped up to see him swathed in the blanket, still lying on the sofa. Realising he’d been awake before I was, and had most likely refrained from moving me for quite a while, I narrowed my eyes in suspicion before Kurt exclaimed ‘Merry Christmas, fuckers!’ dived under the tinsel-adorned shrub with energy more characteristic of Krist, and retrieved the weird assortment of lumpy parcels.

‘Saffy, you didn’t have to.’

‘Oh yeah,’ I grinned. ‘I totally did.’

Kurt unwrapped the guitar pickups I knew he’d been wanting. ‘If you take them down to the repair shop with your Jag, the guy will wire them up for you for free.’ He nodded his thanks and smiled warmly as Dave ripped into the paper of his parcel.

‘Check it out!’ He flipped the baseball cap onto his head, gesturing to the embroidered three-circle logo. ‘Bonzo. It matches my tattoos.’ Dave enfolded me in a hug, and I pulled away after a second to take my leave, standing with the blanket wrapped around my waist.

‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m still pretty underdressed. I’m gonna go and change.’

As soon as I got inside my flat, I bent double and covered my face with my hands, groaning silently into the blanket. How embarrassing! What kind of impression must I have given, flinging myself on top of Dave late last night? And only in my t-shirt and knickers!

I decided not to dwell on it too much, and pulled on some jeans with a green shirt. As an afterthought, I changed my plain bra and pants for navy silk underwear; my mind was telling me it was perfectly reasonable given the occasion, but my heart was hoping Dave would have a couple of drinks tonight.

 

-

 

By eleven, Kurt’s flat was dark and Dave and I sat alone on the dilapidated sofa, slumped with our heads on one another’s shoulders. Everyone was either out getting drunk or already passed out at other people’s homes, and Dave had kept me company as the idea of going out into the freezing night didn’t appeal at all. We’d rolled a couple of joints and a Lou Reed long player spun on Kurt’s battered turntable. In short, it was blissful. By this time, you can probably guess that I would've given up on any faint hopes that my fancy underwear pertained to, and Dave and I kept companionable silence, occasionally broken by offerings of our trains of thought.

Finally, I said ‘I’ve always wanted to go on a road trip. Across the whole country, in a Ford Mustang.’

Dave paused before replying, breathing out through his nose and making strands of hair flutter across his face. ‘Do you think it’ll happen?’

‘Perhaps when I’m forty. Or thirty. As young as possible, really…’

‘Might be at twenty five.’

‘How, though? I can’t see myself ever having the money.’

‘Don’t ask me. Maybe you’ll inherit something.’

I snorted. ‘In my dreams! Will was always the angel child. Even if my dad leaves an inheritance, it’ll probably go straight to him.’ Another pause. ‘I was such a nutter as a child.’

‘I got sent to Catholic school for smoking pot all the time.’

‘Oh, the irony…’ We stared at the stubbed out dog-ends in the cracked mug on the table. The record’s A-side came to an end, but even as the needle lifted with a click, we knew neither of us could be bothered to get up and flip it. Silence pervaded the room completely this time, and Dave’s body radiated warmth. I reached to grasp the hand that wrapped around my shoulder, and without giving it much thought, laid my head down on his knee. The late hour finally got the better of me.

 

-

 

‘Here’s to 1991!’ A great yell went up amongst the crowd of people gathered in Krist’s back yard in Tacoma. Someone lit a match and sprinted away from a haphazard pile of fireworks, which began to fizz and splutter within seconds, shooting their colourful patterns into the sky.

I pulled my coat around me more firmly as everyone started to count down from ten loudly. When we reached zero, nothing seemed any different, but people grabbed each other in the dark to find a New Year’s kiss. I stood still somewhat awkwardly until, to my surprise, I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders that spun me around. Dave’s face fell into my line of vision, well lit by the full moon and trademark grin firmly in place, albeit a little dizzy-looking from drinking.

‘Happy New Year, Saff.’ His face zoned in towards mine, and my breath caught in my throat. His lips closed briefly over my slightly parted ones, somehow soft and firm at the same time. I felt momentarily as though I’d been electrocuted, reaching my arms up to rest on his shoulders. Any meaningful thoughts, however, were forced back into the part of my mind where wavering doubt and ambiguity lay, when he pulled away after a second or so and lifted his chin to plant another kiss on my forehead. Nope. That one was definitely platonic.

I managed to squeak out a ‘Thanks’.

The sparkling wine was super cheap and tasted too similar to Kool-Aid for my liking, but groups of people sectioned off and travelled back to their own parties. Kurt and Dave had decided to invite several people, and by the time we’d all crammed into my Cortina, Krist’s rust-bucket and the old Dodge van, our party was standing at (besides all three of us) Krist, Shelli, Tobi, Carrie, various members of Melvins, Mudhoney and Bikini Kill.

Most other residents in the apartment block were either on holiday or partying themselves, so we connected the stereo to Kurt’s amp and turned it up to 11 without any reservation. The night passed in a blur after that, in a manner not dissimilar to the way Christmas was spent. At five in the morning I was totally wired and unable to sleep, and ended up drifting around the flat to inspect the damage.

Carrie and Dave were slumped on opposite ends of the sofa, both their faces obscured by their wild masses of hair, one brown and the other red.

Kathleen was curled up on the floor in Kurt’s room, a spray-paint can in her hand. The words ‘Kurt smells like teen spirit’ glistened darkly on the wall.

Various other people were splayed across chairs or resting their heads on cushions in a corner, and some had already staggered home. I stood in the doorframe between the kitchen and the living room, surveying the scene and all the sleeping people. A faint click and whistle made me frown in confusion, before realising that there was a Sonic Youth single spinning at the end of its A-side.  I crossed the room, lifted the needle off the spinning vinyl and hunted around for its sleeve. There wasn’t actually too much to be put away, only a lot of rubbish to be picked up. I sat cross-legged on the carpet and rested my chin on my knees, gazing up at Dave’s face, which was only a metre or so away. As he shifted in his sleep, his hair fell away from his face, revealing those indescribably lovely features. I lifted my chin from my knees and lay my head sideways so I was parallel to him. His eyelashes were more noticeable than they were on most guys, and I inadvertently became lost in admiring them; when his eyes suddenly fluttered open, mine opened wide in tension. He didn’t move a muscle apart from focusing on my face and, after a moment, very slowly sticking his tongue out comically. I stifled a giggle and winked back, and we both closed our eyes again simultaneously.


	3. 'That's How You Know You're Going Up In The World!' (or, Pot For Two, Please Saffy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After breaking away from the town that got her back on her feet, Saffy joins Carrie and reconnects with her not-so-mysterious Seattle fling. She throws herself headlong into the goings-on in the city, but it seems someone has followed her...  
> Meanwhile, when she takes a trip back to see her old friends, she may have left it a little too late.

I decided, at the end of the second week of January, to leave Olympia. I actually made the decision just days after New Year, but wanted to stay for Dave’s birthday.

I told myself that I could no longer justify living in the town. My job was in Seattle, the commute to the city every morning was a hassle and although I had many friends in Olympia, living there didn’t make as much sense as it used to. It was as though everyone was choosing to live in an eternal adolescence, a bubble of carefree living that just didn’t transfer to the outside world. I knew Dave recognised it, having come from playing in a hardcore punk band the other side of the country, but the majority of people outside of the punk rock community were, well, just plain weird. It was an interesting place to live, and productive in its own way, but the lure of the city was now proving to be too great.

Dave turned twenty two, and didn’t want to make much fanfare about the whole thing. The whole gang made a point of trawling around the clubs to see who was playing, and we had a few more drinks than usual. I bought him an Angry Samoans record.

I played another two shows with Bikini Kill, before breaking it to Kathleen that I’d be leaving, both the band and Olympia itself. Playing onstage was a mad thrill, a heady rush of adrenaline I’d never experienced before. I couldn’t let myself zone out and focus completely on my guitar part, because I was also taking on back-up vocals, which was incredibly fun because I got to have a good scream. I’d never known performance to be so exhilarating. The second time around, I was delighted to find Dave waiting for me by my car outside the back of the club, having stood inside for a while to watch us.

Carrie already had an apartment in Seattle, and I was planning on moving in with her. I told Dave and Kurt I was moving on a Tuesday morning, and left on the Thursday afternoon after packing my case and boxes into my Cortina. Kurt seemed somewhat ambivalent, and perhaps it was because I’d spent so much time with him, but saying goodbye to Dave was hard. Much harder than I’d expected.

‘I’d call if only you had a line, but if you wanna speak you’ll have to call from the phone box downstairs. Remember I’m staying with Carrie, so I’ll be easier to contact anyway.’ I explained, standing outside with him in the brisk January wind before getting into the driver’s seat.

Dave nodded solemnly, staring down at the piece of paper I’d just given him that held Carrie’s number. ‘It’s gonna be seriously weird, not getting in from practice and climbing the stairs to ask how your day went.’

‘Yeah. I know.’ My smile wavered as the full realisation of what I was leaving behind hit me. ‘You’ll be in the city quite a lot though, right? You’ll play shows all around Portland and Seattle.’

‘I hope so.’ He hesitated before holding his arms out, and I stepped into them as he gave me a quick, tight hug, the ends of his hair tickling my nose. I stepped away and climbed into the car, winding down the window to lean out again.

‘You’ll be just fine. Don’t let Kurt’s fridge get too mouldy…’

‘I won’t.’

As I pulled away, the sight of him in my wing mirror, feet together and hands thrust in pocket, caused a stab of disconsolateness.

_I’m so defeatist._

-

 

After all this time, it was a small, strange, luxury to be able to press the buttons on a home phone rather than have to flip coins into a machine.

My hands shook slightly as I held the receiver to my ear, and the call tone sounded several times before halting and a deep, smooth voice said ‘Hello?’

‘Hi, can I speak to Matt, please? Matt Cameron?’

A muffled yell. ‘Matt! You’ve got a lady caller.’

‘Thanks Chris.’ A pause, then the crackle of the receiver being passed over. ‘Hi, who’s this?’

‘It’s Saffy, from a couple of months ago. We… uh, met after your show.’

‘Oh! Yeah, I remember. It’s been a while.’

‘I know, I’m sorry. I’ve just moved out of Olympia and I’m staying in Seattle with a friend now.’

‘I wondered if that was you.’ He spoke as though he was smiling. ‘Carrie, right? Chris is dating her and she told him she had someone moving in.’

‘They’re dating? How sneaky! She never told me. That’s great, though.’

‘I guess you want to meet up then?’

‘Definitely.’                        

 

-

 

As soon as I walked into the café, I knew I’d made the right decision. Carrie had berated me almost as soon as I began to unpack, pleading me to call him and start making links (especially romantic ones) in the city.

Her flat was comfortably situated on a small side street off one of the major avenues of the city, and I was struggling to get used to how everything was twice as tall as usual. My room was sort of pokey, but I was perfectly happy with the whole arrangement, especially as I’d be sharing rent with Carrie, so it was economical for both of us.

Now, though, I’d changed from my scruffy travelling clothes into a clean pair of black jeans, orange sweater and winter coat, and let my hair down from its straggly ponytail. My hair had recently reached well below my shoulders, so I’d cut it again in Olympia before I left, and it was now back to shoulder-length again. Matt sat in the far corner of the café, sitting in front of a large coffee with a scarf around his neck and his blonde hair waving down over his forehead. His eyes widened in surprise as he caught sight of me, and he stood to greet me as I approached.

‘Hey,’ he kissed my cheek gentlemanly and called the waitress over. ‘How’s it going? Did the move go smoothly?’

I nodded, and the rest of our conversation played out as though barely a day had gone by since I kissed him goodbye in his car. Matt was just an incredibly familiar being altogether. He explained how the band had gone from strength to strength, and I asked him all sorts of questions, with the intention of finding out more about him and his life as a whole. When I spoke, he listened attentively, never breaking eye contact and sometimes resting his chin on his hand; that was nice, I liked that. Two hours flew by like lightning.

‘Do you have somewhere to be, or do you wanna come back to the flat? Just, er... we can maybe listen to some records, I don’t know.’ I bit my lip anxiously, afraid he might be under the impression I was planning on this time being a similar encounter to our first.

To my relief, he shrugged and smiled graciously. ‘I’d love to. The other guys aren’t expecting me back, and even if they were, they’re flatmates, not mothers.’

I insisted on paying the bill, and we walked the short distance back to the flat in the oppressive layer of fog that had descended on the city. Carrie was out, probably working her lunchtime shift at the Italian restaurant, and the flat was calm and silent.

‘You've been on my mind quite a bit, you know.’ Matt said quietly as I hung up my coat and took his off him. ‘You didn’t call until you moved back.’

I blushed with guilt. ‘I know. That I didn’t call, I mean. I should have. But I didn’t know you thought of me.’

‘There was someone else back in Olympia, wasn’t there?’

‘Not really. Someone I cared about very much. I thought I might have a chance but… apparently not.’

‘I can’t think why they wouldn’t want you.’ His voice grew even quieter, but I didn’t have to strain my ears to hear him; his hands had risen to cup my face and tilt it towards his. A thousand contradictions clamoured in my head, but if I told Matt that it wasn’t like that, _Dave_ didn’t think like that, it wouldn’t have helped matters.

I buried my face in his shoulder as he held me close to him and stroked my hair.

‘I’m kind of hungry.’ I mumbled into his sweater. He let go of me and I raised my head. ‘Come on, I’ll make some toast and then I’ll show you just how awesome my music taste is.’ He grinned, and followed me into the kitchen, pulling out one of the chairs from under the table to take a seat.

‘Do you play anything? Drums, guitar?’

‘Guitar. I have a Danelectro sitting in the living room if you wanna take a look.’

‘Cool.’ He disappeared for a moment before returning with it slung around his shoulders in a comically high fashion. ‘Been playing for long?’

‘About five or six years. I first learnt some Beatles and Bowie to get me started, and then I tried to replicate what I heard on punk records.’

‘Well, that’s the best way, right?’

‘Uh huh. Worked for me. I’m not exactly impressive but I learn quickly.’

‘You’ll have to meet the others.' Matt smiled as he settled into the chair opposite me and rang out some chords on the strings. 'I mean, I know you’ve already met Chris, but it’d be cool to jam all together some time.’

 _Jam with Soundgarden! Damn,_ I thought, _that’s how you know you’re going up in the world._

 

-

 

Carrie got back about an hour after Matt and I did, and although I could tell she didn’t want to interfere, I encouraged her to join us for a bit. She clearly got on well with Matt, and I suspected that she’d been to the flat he shared with the rest of the band because of Chris.

A month after moving in, the studio I worked in went bust – something I was hardly surprised about, considering they weren't exactly certainly trading in the most lucrative genre at this moment in time. Jazz was never going to bring in as much revenue as the new hybrid of punk and something else, a scuzzy sound that was neither metal nor garage rock. It was a truth universally acknowledged that Seattle had a sound all its own. Consequently, I felt compelled to remain in the industry and move to another studio rather than find tedious work as a waitress or shop assistant. I applied for a vacancy at a place named Laundry Room Studios, as a general assistant, which I suspected involved plenty of paperwork and coffee-making and probably not much involvement with recording processes. Still, the atmosphere itself was sufficient to keep things interesting, and the pay was the same so I had no qualms.

Chris and Carrie had a strange relationship, impassioned and sometimes stormy, but there was no doubt that they suited each other, especially visually with their long matching curls, one head peachy and the other dark. Matt moved in with Carrie and I at the beginning of the summer as tensions arose in the cramped flat the band shared, and in contrast our relationship was easy and uncomplicated, though not particularly serious. That’s not to say we weren’t faithful to one another, but we both knew our personalities were compatible primarily as very good friends, rather than partners.

All Soundgarden concerts became a frequent fixture for Carrie and myself, though it wasn't long before a tour was booked and we spent our nights out watching other bands in the area instead. Matt’s last gig in the city was two days before a month-long tour of the East Coast, and the send-off was practically incendiary – everybody turned out, and the band were ecstatic. I watched from the bar as they waved to the crowd and sidled offstage, exhausted. Chris left the stage last, but not before a man with wavy light brown hair reached out from the wings to swing an arm over his shoulder and slap him on the back triumphantly. They exchanged grins and easy words, and I supposed they were pretty good friends, a theory confirmed when Carrie shouted in my ear over the crowd’s clamour, ‘That guy with Chris, I met him just the other day. He’s been recording an album with his band for a while… Eddie, that’s his name.’

I nodded in acknowledgement as I followed her around to the backstage door. ‘He’s a nice guy,’ she continued, ‘seems him and Chris are pretty tight.’

Matt drifted into view from around a corner, a towel around his neck and sweat dripping from his hair. ‘Crazy, huh?’ he grinned.

‘It must have felt great’ I replied. He took my hand and tugged me towards one of the grimy dressing rooms, collapsing onto a sofa against the back wall.

‘Sorry, I’m just totally worn out. I’ve gotta sit down.’

‘You were sat on the throne the whole show, man.’ A gravelly voice drawled from the doorway. I looked up to see the guy Carrie had called Eddie, with his hair tucked under a dark baseball cap and an honest, friendly smile.

‘Quite appropriate for the king of Seattle drummers.’ Matt joked.

Eddie turned to me. ‘Who’s this, then? Aren’t you going to introduce me, Matt? Let’s see… girlfriend? You don’t look much like a sister.’

‘Saffy, this is-’

‘Eddie, I know. Carrie told me.’ I smiled and nodded from my seat on the dressing table. ‘Matt and I got together a few months ago, if that explains it.’

‘Ah, I see. Mustn’t let his head get too big then.’

‘Oh no,’ I grinned, ‘he knows I know some other great drummers. I’ll always be reminding him of his competition.’

‘Keep it up! I’d better find the others now… see you later, Matt, Saffy.’ He waved briskly before disappearing round the corner and back into the corridor.

I glanced back to Matt and raised my eyebrows. ‘Seems cool.’

‘He is, yeah. He’s a decent guy.’ he replied, pulling the towel from behind his neck and standing. ‘We’ll probably see him around quite a lot. You should check out his shows while we’re on tour.’

I grinned, and swiped a packet of crisps from a bowl under the dusty, age-spotted mirror. ‘I like this. Meeting all your friends in all these bands. Makes me feel so at home.’

‘I’m glad you do.’ Matt came closer and brought his arms around my waist, pushing me back until my backside hit the edge of the dressing table. I brought a hand up to push his hair off his forehead and out of his eyes.

‘You’re wonderful.’ I mumbled, tracing the contours of his jawline with my hand.

‘I wouldn’t go that far.’ Matt laughed quietly, but he kissed my cheek and pulled me towards him so my head lay on his shoulder; I closed my eyes and revelled in the sensation of being held so affectionately, the comfort and reassurance never lost on me.

 

-

 

‘Pot for two, please, Saffy.’ I heard a voice call from the stairs.

‘Sure.’ I replied. Barrett must have company in the studio, I realised. I frowned. I hadn’t seen anybody pass down the corridor from coming in, unless of course they’d arrived before I got to work. And at half past eight, that would be pretty early.

I pushed the empty coffee pot onto the drip tray of the coffee machine and waited. The diary was empty until two o’clock… even session musicians weren’t around at this time. With a hiss and a click, the coffee machine finished, and I dumped some milk sachets in a couple of mugs.

The studio was oddly empty. _Where’s he got to now?_ I thought. Perhaps for a smoke break. I set the coffee down on the table next to the sofa, and hovered momentarily, slightly curious about what he was working on. A notepad was splayed over the controls, leaves of paper crumpled and split, clashing lines of rhyme and lyric visible from a couple of yards. A spool of tape was already in place on the machine. Making sure the volume was turned down low, I guiltily rewound and hit playback.

_He needs a quiet room_

_With a lock to keep him in_

Shit.

 

-

 

To say I hadn’t thought of Dave since moving away would be a complete and utter untruth. He hadn’t called again after the first few weeks, but then I hadn’t visited Olympia either. It was strange, because we were close in way that I hadn’t known was possible. He wasn’t only gentle and generous and everything else a friend could be, but also pretty charming for a man with below shoulder-length grubby hair who listened to hardcore and lived in semi-squalor between a shared flat and the back of a rusty van.

I peered out of my second floor window, and spotted Barrett and Dave standing around on the sidewalk, wisps of cigarette smoke curling above their heads. Seeing him again would be… great, but perhaps slightly awkward. I knew I was overthinking it, and that it really should have been the easiest thing in the world to simply walk down and say hi.

I leant back in my chair and chewed the end of a biro, thinking things through. What was it, really, that stood in my way? Okay, so we hadn’t spoken for a few months. Big deal. The main issue, really, was what we’d say after the ‘hi, isn’t it great to see you, how have you been’ point.

Whether Dave felt differently or not, I’d been with Matt for a while now. Not that Dave knew… or did he? That was another awkward thing to face, that elephant in the corner. A couple of wrongly phrased statements and I’d be inclined to tip the pot of coffee over my head and sink into the concrete slabs of the pavement in humiliation.

Better to make myself scarce, I decided, and keep my fingers crossed that Barrett didn’t mention my name. I glanced out the window again, but they had disappeared. The echoing of footsteps up the stairs prompted me to scramble away from my desk and down the corridor, closing the toilet door behind me.

‘So don’t you think you’ll ever release them properly?’ Barrett’s muffled voice grew closer, and I couldn’t help but press my ear against the crack between the door and its frame.

‘I don’t think so, man… I just recorded the other album with the band. It might be worth hanging on to the tracks and waiting.’ High, smooth and clear. Definitely Dave.

‘That makes sense, I guess. Are you happy with it? The album, I mean?’

‘Well, I am. Kurt seems to think it’s a little too polished - you know, over produced. All he means is it’s not quite as rough and scuzzy as the stuff he listens to. Personally, I like what Butch has done.’

‘Oh, here’s our coffee.’ I heard the clink of mugs and remembered I’d left the coffee pot on the desk. ‘And the label? Do Geffen think it’ll sell?’

‘They seem fairly confident we’ll shift maybe 200,000 copies, on a par with Sonic Youth’s latest record.’

Barrett’s response was so distant and quiet now that I couldn’t make it out, and I concluded that they must be some way down the corridor and back in the studio.

Geffen! What the fuck! I must have missed out on that newsflash. Signed to a major label? It was kind of a shock. Of course they had the talent and the songs to attract A&R-types sniffing around, but I would have thought Kurt would be adamant to stick to the underground, punk roots of Sub Pop. Perhaps not then, if they’d already recorded an album with Geffen... and the more I thought about it, with the obvious Sonic Youth connection, the more it seemed like a smart move. As I opened the bathroom door again and slid back into my spot behind the desk, I began to wonder what it sounded like, when it would be released… perhaps seeing Dave again and speaking about that would be a good idea. On my own terms, though, rather than bump into him in the workplace.

Matt, Chris and co. had already been gone on tour for a week, and wouldn’t be back until the beginning of July. Now, in mid-June, Seattle was getting pretty warm and the Pearl Jam shows Carrie and I went to in the evening became uncomfortably stuffy. Consequently, it became a wonderfully carefree habit to ditch the venue straight after the show and drive to an old warehouse in a neglected corner of the city and hang out there with the band, crew and friends, smoking pot and cooling off in the sweltering night by mucking around with a hosepipe connected to an old water mains. The difference in my lifestyle was that bit wilder, more anxiety-free and absolutely blissful. I had a job, I had a nice home, I had a place amongst friends with the same interests and attitude as me. I still cared about Kurt and Krist and Kathleen, but I had accepted that those friendships had been left behind along with the way of life in Olympia, and no doubt they were all people I’d meet again in another time and place. All that was left right now was to reconnect with the person I couldn’t truly leave.

 

-

 

‘Pear Street,’ I muttered to myself as I saw the road sign, ‘hasn’t changed a bit.’ I pulled up my Cortina next to the kerb, and retrieved a package from the back seat which contained some developed photos I’d taken at the last Nirvana show I went to see, just after the New Year. I climbed the familiar stairwell up to Kurt’s door and knocked gently twice before pushing the door open, as I knew he barely ever locked it.

Except it wouldn’t budge.

‘The fuck…?’ I muttered, bending down to peer through the keyhole and see if he was about. Just as I reached the elbow-level chink in the door, it swung open and my gaze swivelled upwards to see a lady of about sixty staring down at me suspiciously.

‘Yes?’

I straightened up awkwardly and pulled at the cuffs of my grey sweater. ‘Sorry, I was, uh, looking for my friend Kurt. Is he not around here anymore?’

‘Oh, that’s the man that got evicted before I moved in. Which was about two weeks ago, if that helps.’ She gazed at me surprisingly sympathetically. ‘I’m afraid I don’t know anything else.’

‘Don’t worry,’ I mumbled, slightly shell-shocked, ‘it’s understandable. If you’ll excuse me…’

The lady nodded and I clattered down the steps again, taking them two at a time, and got back in the driver’s seat. _Krist or Kathleen will know where they are, surely._ I didn’t fancy driving all the way to Tacoma, so I went with the option of asking Kathleen.

I got halfway to her apartment when the engine of my car started spluttering alarmingly. ‘Shit.’ I hissed, glancing at the depleted petrol meter. I managed to pull up to the entrance of the gas station around the corner before the vehicle stalled completely and came to a standstill ten feet from the gas pump.

‘For God’s sake!’ I thumped the dashboard in frustration, flinging the car door open and striding out to the rear. I shoved against the boot of the car in an attempt to push it towards the pump, but it only moved a couple of inches before I groaned and straightened up with aching muscles.

‘In a sticky spot?’ A familiarly gravelly voice sounded from just behind me, and I whirled around in relief. Kurt’s stubbly face framed by his dirty blonde hair could not have been a more welcome sight. ‘You look flustered.’

‘Yeah, I… need to fill up.’ I grinned as he joined me beside the car boot and shouldered some of the force. He wasn’t the strongest guy, but our combined efforts shifted the little Cortina the few metres it needed so I could refuel it. I straightened up for the second time, and wiped my hands on my grubby jeans.

‘Thanks for that. You’re like a fairy godmother.’

Kurt grinned and cocked his head to one side. ‘I’m bursting full of magic. What brings you back into town after so long?’

‘I just wanted to drop in and give you these.’ I opened the car door and grasped the package of photos from the driver-side footwell. ‘But the woman at the flat said you got evicted. What’s with that?’

He shrugged, apparently indifferent to his circumstances. ‘I guess we just forgot to keep up the payments. You’re looking for Dave too, right?’

‘Yeah, okay. I am. So?’

‘He misses you.’

‘Wh… really? Why?’

‘Oh, you know he was so used to hanging out with you in just about every spare hour he had.’ His eyebrows raised expectantly.

‘But Kurt, where the hell are you staying now?’ I changed the subject to more pressing matters, though my mind was screaming out to know more about why Dave missed me.

‘I spent nights in my car, mostly. Sometime Krist lets me stay at his. I’ll find a place, don’t worry. And Dave’s in Virginia visiting his family and doing some recording with a friend.’

My mind simultaneously wondered and confirmed that it was Barrett he was recording with, as the week’s leave he had taken and crossed off on the calendar on my desk flashed before my eyes momentarily.

‘I see. Well, in the meantime, are you sure I can’t get you something now that I’m paying for gas?’

He visibly hesitated, and I could see there was something he’d want. ‘Go on. I don’t mind, honest.’

‘Alright. A pack of Reds please. And… and a Coke.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

I returned from paying at the till and found Kurt perched on the boot of a surprisingly shiny Valiant. ‘This a new one?’

‘Yeah, I got it last month for just over $500.’

‘Rather that than your rent then?’

‘We’ve got a bit more money to hand now… Geffen signed us just after you left.’

‘I heard. Dave came in to record in Laundry Room Studios, where I work, and I heard him talking about it.’

‘You’ve seen him then?’ Kurt’s face lifted in a knowing grin.

‘No. Actually, I locked myself in the toilet.’

‘Oh god,’ he laughed, ‘you guys are too funny. One minute you’re bloody best friends and the next there’s a mountain of tension because after a few months you realise you feel something for him.’ He paused, gauging my reaction – which was all discomfort and embarrassment. ‘I kinda summed it all up for you, huh?’

‘I guess. But don’t go shouting about it, okay?’ I returned to my car and opened the driver-side door. ‘I’ll try and be back in a week or so to talk again. Give me a call so I know where to find you.’

‘Sure.’

I got behind the steering wheel and glanced into my wing mirror, where I could see Kurt standing and lighting the first cigarette from the pack. ‘For fuck’s sake, be careful.’ I muttered under my breath. I hoped he’d find a place to stay soon; sleeping in a car wasn’t too great when even in August, Washington nights could be cold and Olympia’s twenty-four hour car parks could be dodgy. He’d be just fine though, really, in the long term. I knew Kurt was something of a survivor; I’d heard enough of his crazy childhood stories to ascertain that. But now Kurt was one more person I didn't really want to leave behind.

 

-

 

August ended rapidly, though I never got around to returning to Olympia. To be perfectly honest, it wasn’t top of my list of priorities, and every day was crammed full once I took up a second job in the evening, working as a runner at the Neptune Theatre. On my day off every Tuesday, if there were any decent shows around I went along, but mostly I went straight back to the flat from the studio and stayed home with Carrie, unless any friends dropped in. The nights I worked at the theatre, I didn’t usually get back until half twelve at night, and ended up collapsing into bed until dragging myself up again at seven. Though not as bad as some – and I certainly didn’t take it for granted – my schedule was utterly exhausting. Sunday was my day off from the studio, and for the whole day until I walked to the theatre at half five, it really hit me hard just how drained I was. Relief came by the beginning of September.

 

-

 

The swing doors behind my desk burst open at five and startled me violently. I was so used to Barrett strolling lazily through the hallway and pensive-looking musicians trickling in and out, that I knew something had to be up – especially when the face my eyes focused on was Eddie’s, and as far as I knew he had no particular reason to be at my workplace.

‘Woah,’ I threw up my hands, ‘don’t think you’re booked for a session anytime. Who crashed a car?’

‘No…uh… nobody!’ He panted, bent double hands on knees. ‘You know we’re starting the tour tomorrow?’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘Yeah, well, Adam just broke his collar bone and there’s no way he can set up for us.’ Adam was one of the roadies, an integral part of the road crew since it was a small team.

‘Shit, man. I don’t think I know anyone who-’

‘That’s not what I’m interested in, ‘cause I don’t either. We need _you_ , Saffy.’ Eddie interrupted, swiping his hair out of his face and looking extremely anxious.

I went to reply and stopped abruptly, opening and closing my mouth like a goldfish. ‘Me? On tour?’ I half-whispered.

‘Yeah. You know most of what you’re doing, you know how to set stuff up and anything else wouldn’t take long to teach. You get on with the guys. I know you’re in this job, but… the record’s selling steadily. We’ll match whatever you’re getting for working this desk job, plus you’ll have a hell of a time. Not to mention we’re kind of desperate too,’ Eddie grinned sheepishly and looked down at his feet.

I bit my lip, thinking hard. ‘Alright… so far. I need to talk to Barrett, I need to talk to Matt and Carrie. But I’m up for that.’

 _‘Thank_ you!’ he groaned, clearly relieved. ‘I swear to god, I don’t know what we’d do without you. Stone will be round tonight to check it’s still okay and hand over some stuff to pack.’ And with that, he dashed out the doors again, leaving them to swing back with a bang. I sat down on my swivel chair and kicked at the edge of the desk to make me spin. I watched my knees zoom past the blurring floor and leant back with my arms behind my head.

‘What the fuck did I just agree to?’ I muttered, laughing to myself.


	4. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saffy gets to grips with life on tour, and catches a strange TV spectacle. Of course, her old friends weren't going to be out of her life for long, but when the thing she's always wanted becomes startlingly feasible for the first time ever, is it really as convenient as it seems?

‘You’re on in five!’ The promoter jabs his thumb in the direction of the stage and holds up five fingers. Crouched five feet to the right and in full view of the extraordinarily enthusiastic crowd, I pulled my baseball cap further over my forehead and finished taping down Stone’s pedalboard. It was the first date of the tour, in British Columbia, and we’d shortly be travelling down the West Coast, through Oregon and California – including San Francisco.

Barrett was perfectly happy to let me go, and I recommended Carrie as my successor, as I thought she’d appreciate a slightly less stressful job than the one in the Italian restaurant. On the other hand, Matt was a little more reluctant, and I couldn’t blame him. We’d seen very little of each other as it was, especially since he’d been on tour for so long recently, and though I loved his company and vice versa, it felt like we were missing out on big chunks of each other’s experiences. That night after I’d agreed to go on tour and before we set off, I stayed up late with Matt and we made the most of our last evening together until just before Christmas.

‘I don’t know how I’ll cope without waking up to your pancakes on a Saturday morning,’ he sighed, running his fingers through my hair as we lay on the sofa together, my back against his chest and his legs either side of mine. ‘Really, though. It’s like a slice of heaven being able to come back here after chaotic days and you’re sitting playing your guitar, or making a milkshake in the kitchen.’

‘Yeah, and then we decide to make cheap cocktails instead. They always taste crap.’

‘We’d better make some good ones at Christmas then.’

‘Mm... so far away.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry. You know how it is. A good opportunity.’

‘Yeah. I do realise, you know, that it can’t work out.’

I sat and turned to face him, suddenly serious. ‘You do?’

‘Of course. Come on, how feasible is it to maintain a relationship when both parties are on the road? I feel helpless to do anything about it, but in terms of priorities, this is what we both love.’

I kissed him gently. ‘Oh, Matthew.’

‘Saffron.’

I tapped his grinning face. ‘Shut it.’

He grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his waist, standing and carrying me across the hallway and into our room. I rested my chin on his shoulder and clung to him tightly as he sat on the end of the bed. A lump formed in my throat as I said ‘I can’t believe this is pretty much it.’

‘Nope. It’s not, you know. I’ll always be around when you need help.’

I sat back and looked him in the eye, cupping his angelic face. ‘Thanks.’

‘Might as well make the most of tonight, huh? Up for it?’

‘God, yes.’ I grinned, and pulled my t-shirt from behind my shoulder and up over my head. What a send-off.

 

 

-

 

By mid-October, we’d joined the Red Hot Chili Peppers on their arena tour, and things got seriously crazy. Just the look of mixed excitement and apprehension in Eddie’s eyes before he went onstage went to show exactly how big things were getting. Kids screamed even when I came onstage to check the mics because they thought I was Anthony Kiedis or someone; it was wild hearing tens of thousands of people going bat-shit because they’ve caught sight of you, even if they only thought I was someone else. I was used to the routine of setting up, but that euphoria never went away.

The show just before the first arena was at the 9:30 in D.C., but that got cancelled, which I was sorry about seeing as Dave had told me so much about it. Little details like that kept him on my mind, but every time I thought of him, I searched my mind in an attempt to tell whether I really did still care about him in that way. It was difficult to know after so long, and recent events meant that it was starting to get really difficult to make contact with Kurt, let alone the others.

Prime example: their appearance on MTV in a club in Boston sparked the beginning of a remarkable media revolution. Soundcheck was dragging on longer than usual, and I was killing time by aimlessly flicking through television channels backstage, when I came across  a music news report featuring some lanky dude in his boxers playing Twister and smearing his chest in Crisco vegetable grease. It took about five seconds for another guy with long brown hair and a striped sweater to come into view, and it dawned on me that this was Nirvana, and _that_ was Krist and Dave.

‘Fuck! Fucking… bloody hell!’ I shrieked, and leapt over the arm of the chair I was perched on to stick my head into the empty corridor. ‘Someone, anyone! Come and see who’s on TV!’ But by the time I turned back to the screen, a Mariah Carey video was playing, and I thumped the ‘off’ switch of the TV in disappointment. Nobody did come in the end, but it certainly gave me something to think about. I ended up sending a postcard to Krist’s apartment in Tacoma saying that I’d seen them on MTV, but it came back to me in the post with the words ‘Gone Away’ stamped over my careful handwriting in ominous red ink.

The tour was relentless; if my old job routine had been strenuous, then this was enough to drive one to exhaustion. The travel alone was extremely draining, and that took up most of our time. It was during gas refill stops and loo breaks that I got to have a quick look around whichever town it was we were stopping in, and I often gravitated towards music stores in the hope of finding more albums to pass the time on journeys. Soon after the Crisco Twister incident, I found a cassette in the ‘new releases’ section of a small record shop with the ‘Nirvana’ logo emblazoned above a swimming baby.

‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…’ I muttered under my breath, and Nevermind went gold in a matter of weeks. Until that point I hadn’t known what it felt like to be mind-blowingly happy and completely crushed at the same time. I was almost dead certain I’d never get to speak to them again.

Kurt, Krist and Dave’s shocking success had an interesting knock-on effect upon Ten, and we began to notice that all the club shows were selling out. Queues formed around whole blocks and people were getting turned away at the door. After a show at Salt Lake City in the middle of December, I’d never been happier to get back to Seattle and spend Christmas with Matt and Carrie.

Matt greeted me as a friend, and after some deliberation I decided I was glad things had turned out the way they had. We celebrated Christmas raucously, and I couldn’t help remembering the previous one. This time around wasn’t much different, in all honesty, except for the fact that we could afford nicer sparkling wine and I was with different people. The tour resumed just two days after Christmas, but as we arrived in LA to play the Sports Arena with the Chili Peppers again, the Smashing Pumpkins van wasn’t there.

I turned around in my seat and poked Stone’s shoulder, a quizzical expression on my face. ‘Where’s Billy and co? They’re always here before us.’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I heard someone else was replacing them, but I don’t know who.’

I set up for soundcheck and made adjustments in the intervening period before the other support act showed up. I climbed onto the riser to check the drum kit, and glanced at the one behind ours. The cymbals were positioned awfully high, and the toms were seriously worn out; they looked as though the skins might split after one more show. Whoever played them must have been hitting them pretty damn hard, I reasoned. Soundcheck was called for the new band, and I heard a mutter from another roadie. ‘That’s if they’ve managed to get here without breaking down again.’ I smiled slightly, and turned to tune up Mike’s guitar when a figure strolled onto the stage, spinning drumsticks in their hands and clambering onto the drum riser. A few bangs emitted from the bass drum and a roll on the toms, before I heard shouts of ‘Spotlights!’, and the drummer was finally illuminated in a pool of pale yellow light at the exact same moment I lifted a bottle of water to my lips.

It was Dave. I choked, water dribbled down my chin and I frantically tried to mop it up with my t-shirt. _This is totally great and totally shocking at the same time_ , I thought to myself; it was difficult to abstain from hopping from one foot to the other in impatience. I watched, still hidden behind the darkened wings, as he skimmed one stick lazily across the crash cymbal and bent down to adjust something at his feet. His hair had grown even longer and kept falling into his eyes just moments after he pushed it behind his ears again, and he wore a navy sweater that looked several sizes too big for him, only enhancing his skinny frame. Finally, the spotlight dropped and, with a look of relief on his face, he stood from the drum stool and began to climb down onto the stage again. In my haste to get to him, I almost tripped over some cables.

‘Dave!’ Breathless, I touched his shoulder and he spun around in surprise.

‘Saffy, holy shit!’ His hands flew to his mouth, before grasping me by the shoulders. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?! I mean – it’s great! But… how?’

‘I’m a techie for Pearl Jam. Long story short, I met them in Seattle.’

‘That’s crazy. That’s just amazing!’ Dave paused, as though he was about to say something else. ‘Let’s get back to the dressing room, come on.’ He grabbed my hand and held it firmly as he tugged me past other members of crew and piles of road cases, and I stared at the back of his head as he strode in front of me.

We bundled into a door with a sticky-taped ‘Nirvana’ printed label on it, and all of a sudden Krist was towering above me whilst Kurt gazed at me from the back of the room, a small but knowing smile on his lips.

‘Guys! It’s like a fucking family reunion!’

 

-

 

‘This is the first time we’ve played an arena, you know.’

‘You’ll be just fine. Don’t let the size get to you.’

‘At least we’re not headlining, I guess.’

‘Yeah. That’s something.’

Dave reached to grasp my hand for the fourth time since we’d encountered each other again, except this time his own hand shook slightly. I gave it a quick squeeze before a cry of ‘Nirvana onstage now, please!’ came from the promoter, and I pushed him lightly towards the wings.

He turned to look at me before stepping out onto the stage and doing a double take at the sheer scale of the audience. I watched as a roadie rushed forward to hand Kurt his guitar, and glanced up at Dave, now seated securely on the drum riser. He pulled his sweater over his head and I saw when he raised his head that his eyes were shining with anticipation and adrenaline.

The roadie shouted something in Kurt’s ear; he nodded and stepped up to the mic.

Barely half an hour later, the squall of feedback drowned my ears as, with a bang, Kurt threw his guitar down and led the charge offstage. Dave pushed his hi-hat over and hopped off the riser, striding straight towards me in the wings, his face glowing and his hair dishevelled.

‘I knew it would be incred-’

But I didn’t get to finish. Without breaking step, he reached me within a matter of seconds and gathered me up in his slender arms. Suddenly I felt the warmth of his face next to mine and in the very next instance his lips were pressed fiercely against mine, suspending all sensation of time or reality for me. His fingers pressed into the small of my back, closing the gap between our torsos, and my heart began thumping at an alarming rate as I felt his lips open slightly. My own lips parted and our tongues met heatedly; I pulled away after what could only have been several seconds, and stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless. The same look of shock was on Dave’s face, as though only just realising what he’d done.

‘I think I’m sorry,’ he said vaguely, but not removing his hands from my waist and back.

‘Don’t be,’ I breathed. My hands, tucked into fists behind his shoulders, were shaking slightly, whether from elation or trepidation I couldn’t be sure. ‘Neither of us really knows what this means’

‘No. Should we?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Out of the corner of my eye, a couple of people gaped at us; whether they were roadies or band members, I couldn’t be sure.

‘Better break the awkward silence.’ I whispered. Dave looked around and grinned, before turning around and crouching down.

‘Hop on then.’

I snorted with laughter as I lifted my legs over his back and he stood up, giving me a piggyback. I ducked my head under the doorway into the corridor, and scrambled off his back again, planting myself in front of him before he could step forward another inch. The door swung closed, we were alone, and the sounds from the stage were now muffled.

‘That was a one-off.’ I grasped his hand, attempting to appear as composed as possible. ‘We’re on tour. In two nights we’ll go our separate ways again and won’t see each other for another year or so.’ Dave’s face dropped like a stone, and he began to protest, but I spoke over him. ‘I’m going to Europe with Pearl Jam in February. Nirvana are going god knows elsewhere to finish the tour. What on earth do you think we’ll achieve?’

‘I don’t know, I didn’t think that far ahead thirty fucking seconds ago.’ he replied, disgruntled. ‘I wanted to kiss you, okay? Stop overthinking it all.’

I bit my lip, feeling guilty for my outburst. ‘Fine.’ I whispered, standing on my toes to reach up and kiss him gently, longing to drive away the expression of confusion and hurt that lingered on his face. When I drew away again, the corners of his mouth curled upwards and his eyes softened.

A sudden yell came from the corridor. ‘Where the _hell_ is that girl? We need more duct tape!’

‘Shit, I need to get out there again.’ I muttered. ‘I’m sorry, okay? Let’s make the most of this.’ I flashed Dave a smile before turning and rushing outside again, leaving him stood in the middle of the dressing room. The several seconds of doubt and anxiety that had come over me just a minute or so beforehand had vanished, and I knew everything would be perfectly alright.

_Dave kissed me._ Sort of fucking amazing. And we had already been apart for almost a year anyway, and what difference had that made between us? As I checked and tightened the mic stands, my mind wandered, and I began to get a little more perspective. I laughed at myself, and the sudden, inexplicable disappearance of my laid back attitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's been a little short. I'm still cringing at a lot of these lines, which is also why my updates are so infrequent. Thanks for all the support though!


	5. A Couple Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As time goes on, Saffy starts to have reservations about the sort of plans Dave is having, and is keen to pull him back into the reality of touring. Reality is also pretty rough though, and it's all too easy to get shoved around.

_He wasn’t totally sure what he was thinking, but Dave didn’t regret kissing Saffy that first time. If there had to be a first time, he knew he wanted that to be it, and the rush of adrenaline after finishing a big show like that was the perfect excuse. Seeing her again was the weirdest fucking thing in the first place, and it was around that time anyway that he’d managed to stop dwelling on what he’d left behind in Olympia – the memories, really, because obviously she wasn’t there anymore. The tour with Sonic Youth over the summer had been wildly fun, and Dave couldn’t get his head around the fact that he’d finally achieved what he’d dreamt of for the majority of his teenage years – which was to be able to make a living on music. Still, there were certain drawbacks to their newfound success. It seemed impossible to ever be alone with your mind; what with people pestering you for interviews and photos and being ferried from studio to venue to office back to studio again, he could have sworn it was driving him slightly crazy. If anything, the arena dates were kind of a relief, because for some reason the management had made sure nothing was scheduled between each set. This too was why seeing Saffy again was such a welcome jolt back to reality, as someone who had nothing to do with the tornado of media shit that had pursued them for so long._

 

I became tired of standing around in the wings during Pearl Jam’s set, and I couldn’t move around very well. Dave and I had breakfast together the next morning in a diner not far from either of our motel accommodation.

‘How have you found Seattle then?’ He asked, wearily brushing his hair behind his ears. I gathered that Nirvana had had a fairly raucous post-gig party; personally, I’d chosen to go straight to my room and get some well-earned sleep (and, I admitted to myself, to get away from Dave before I ended up berating him for his bad timing).

‘I love it. I’m still glad I moved away. I wouldn’t be doing this right now if I hadn’t.’

‘What were you doing before you met Eddie?’

 _Crap._ ‘Just putting in some hours at a studio, you know, the usual.’

‘Which studio?’ Dave pressed on, and I couldn’t bring myself to lie.

‘Laundry Room.’

‘I knew it!’

I looked up as he laughed sharply and pushed half a sausage around his plate with a fork. ‘You did? How?’

‘Come on, you don’t think Barrett didn’t mention you? Most of the time you’re the only other person around in the building.’

‘Okay, so you caught me out. Tell me what you’re recording with him.’

‘Nothing important. Just demos.’

‘For what?’ I narrowed my eyes. My turn to press down.

‘I have no clue. _You_ were avoiding me.’

‘Was not!’

‘You knew I was there. You made the coffee.’

‘How the hell do you remember these things?’ I smirked.

‘When I think they might be important, I take the trouble.’ He sighed, and dropped his fork, staring down at his plate. Whether intentional or not, his comment forced my throat to constrict in guilt, and I stopped eating, and placed a hand over his.

‘I’m sorry I avoided you. It was stupid of me.’ I didn’t lift my hand until he looked me in the eye and I knew he’d comprehended me.

‘I know. I just thought it weird when I found out, and I still do. I always thought we were easy company with each other.’

‘We are, aren’t we?’

‘Obviously. I just didn’t think that was debatable.’

‘Well, it’s not anymore.’ We exchanged small smiles, and between our gazes there was a sort of unspoken agreement to let go of the matter.

After another ten minutes we both finished our breakfasts and went to leave. ‘This was nice’ Dave commented. ‘A nice couple thing to do.’

I bristled, and waited until we were on the sidewalk to reply. ‘A couple thing. Kind of weird, that phrase, don’t you think? I might not see you for months, if not years. Whoever said I wanted us to start going out?’

‘You seemed pretty obliging last night.’ Dave said mildly, lighting a cigarette.

‘That was a one-time thing. The last time I saw you we were flatmates and best friends.’

‘No, the last time _you_ saw me was from your hiding place at the studio. That fact makes me think you feel a little differently now – but don’t go leaving me under a false impression now, will you?’ He said this last part with a pang of sarcasm, enough to defuse my growing temper and calm my logic.

‘We’re not ‘together’, in any sense of the word. _You_ kissed me last night, you initiated that. I never would have. Don’t you wonder why?’

Dave’s face was falling second by second and I softened a little on him.

‘Listen – you care about me, and I don’t take that for granted. I care about you! But look at our situation. Hell, I just split with Matt before coming on tour. That shit just does not work.’ My brows furrowed and I stared down at his hand in mine, thinking hard about how best to phrase it all logically. ‘I would rather we continued to be the great friends we always have been, than try something out now, at the very worst time, and just wreck everything. You mean more to me than some half assed fling.’

I didn’t get a chance to look at Dave’s face and gauge his reaction; instead I found myself bundled into a tight hug in his arms. ‘Is that… okay?’ I mumbled into his shoulder.

‘Oh god… of course. I get it.’ he replied, giving me an extra squeeze of reassurance. As I pulled away from him, his expression was kind, but one of tired resignation. It hurt, but it had to be done.

 

-

 

Another two arena shows with Nirvana passed, and Dave and I didn’t get any more time alone. Surprisingly, nobody – crew or band member – made any mention of our rather public kiss after the first show, and for a time it was as though it had never happened. I remember always being surrounded by swarms of people, quite a claustrophobic experience when barely a year previously I’d been used to spending half a day in complete solitude. On New Year’s Day, we had an off day, and stopped for a rest just outside Daly City; I made the most of the opportunity to periodically disappear and gather my senses before returning to the road. A local punk show in a run-down bar seemed just the job to take in some new scenery and have a little fun.

 

-

 

Almost as soon as I paid for entry, I had some ominous premonitions about the place. Every other member of the audience seemed slightly suspect, ready to throw themselves about rather violently. Now don’t get me wrong – I’ve nothing against throwing yourself around to the sound of a great band – but you can usually tell when people have the wrong attitude about it. Nevertheless, I’d been to plenty of pretty tough punk shows in most of the West Coast cities. I felt confident that I could handle myself if things got out of hand.

How quickly I was proven wrong. When the band eventually came onstage, they were half-decent, but any enjoyment I might have gotten out of it was ruined by those around me. Elbows flew in my face, so I stuck out my own elbows and grimaced in irritation. Some guy right behind me decided it would be a good idea to try and crowd surf in the cramped space, kicking me in the head in the process and riling up the crowd around me. More and more protestations arose, and although I could see a few groups of aggressive-looking guys eyeballing each other in heated stand-offs, the security dudes in front of the barrier kept their beefy arms resolutely crossed and their faces fixed in boredom.

‘Fucking great.’ I muttered to myself, just before the mosh pits started in earnest, and a sweaty skinhead to my left barrelled into me, slamming against my ribcage and winding me horribly. I gasped for breath in momentary panic and my feet scrambled to keep in contact with the floor despite the compressed sway of the masses of people. Another crowd surfer kicked the back of my head, and although by this point I was breathing more easily again, I decided I was fed up with being tossed around like a rag doll. I didn’t want to have to concentrate more on staying alive than on enjoying the music. Finding a gap through which to retreat was almost impossible though, and I leant back heavily against the people behind me, desperately attempting to burrow back through the audience. Someone jumped forward suddenly, and I felt the force of their weight connect with my spine, throwing my body forwards into the shoulder of yet another sweaty person a head taller than me. And god knows what happened after that, because I only remember being woken from a painful, throbbing blackness by a sharp pressure in my side.

‘Up you get, Tinkerbell.’ A harsh, scraping female voice assaulted my ears. I groaned and focused on a woman’s gaunt, unimpressed face. The heel of her stiletto boot poked my ribcage again, and I batted her away, sitting up rapidly and earning a pain in my temples that felt as though my head was split in two.

‘Drunk kids…’ she tutted and trotted out of view. I realised immediately what must have happened. Drinks cans and plastic cups were crushed into the grimy floor around me, and a couple of people wandered around the barrier, scavenging for trodden cameras and various other lost valuables. I got to my feet unsteadily and gingerly patted myself down, checking I hadn’t lost anything important – except perhaps my dignity, of which there wasn’t much to speak of in the first place.

I stumbled out into the porch, glaring at the rain lashing down from the oppressively grey sky. _Pathetic fallacy._ Luckily the motel wasn’t too far to walk, but in my condition it seemed an eternity. I felt raindrops running right down my spine and into the waistband of my jeans, soaking through my sweater and shirt. I came to a crossroads, and turned left, away from where I knew my room for the night was. I wanted familiar company again, somebody I could explain the night’s events to.

I came to another motel, and climbed a flight or two of stairs. I must have looked quite a sight when the door opened.

‘Jesus, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hurricane.’

 

-

 

It was Kurt who opened the door to me, and he now sat reading a magazine on his bed as Dave helped me peel my sweater over my head and draped it over a radiator.

‘Your hair’s really dusty too. You must have really gotten tossed around.’

‘Yeah, it was kinda traumatic,’ I joked. ‘Do you have a shirt I can borrow? I don’t think I can sit around in your room in just my underwear.’

‘Sure, take the one on the end of the bed.’

I glanced over and picked up a navy t-shirt. ‘Thanks.’ I paused as I caught sight of some flashing lights on a house out the window. ‘Look, I didn’t ask you guys if you had a good Christmas. Did you have fun?’

‘It was nice, yeah. I spent it with my family in Virginia though. Kurt went to Krist and Shelli’s for the day.’ Dave replied and Kurt nodded from the bed, still totally absorbed in his reading. I pulled my own sodden t-shirt over my head, and Dave turned away slightly as I replaced it with the navy one, which I knew was baggy on Dave, but it positively swamped me. The t-shirt sleeves reached my elbows. I’d barely pulled it down over my back however, when I heard a sort of horrified gasp from Dave (who was supposed to be averting his eyes), and started nervously.

‘What? Tell me what it is!’

‘No, it’s just… look!’ Dave stepped forward and gently lifted up the shirt to expose the bottom of my ribcage, which held a smattering of fresh bluish bruises.

‘Oh dear,’ I shrugged, ‘that’s not too bad, I guess.’

‘There’s more, Saff.’

I shivered slightly as his knuckles brushed imperceptibly against my skin, spinning me on the spot and pointing out a nasty-looking one above my hip. ‘These are pretty bad. Let’s get a flannel on them or something, at least. That way we can get some of the dust off you too.’

‘Okay.’ I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and Dave closed the bathroom door behind him. I unzipped my damp jeans and began to ease them off, and Dave hurriedly turned his back again.

I grinned. ‘Dave. It’s only me.’

‘Okay.’ he mumbled, turning back to face me. His kept his gaze fixed on my face, but when it flitted down to my legs, an anxious expression came over his face again. I stared down at my purplish kneecap, trailing an angry red mark down my shin and ending at my heel tendon, which was badly grazed and rid of the top layer of skin. ‘Damn…’ he whispered, kneeling down to look more closely.

‘Ouch. They look nasty.’ I smirked and leant forward to reach for the cold water faucet, but I felt a sharp tug on my arm. Dave’s eyebrows were furrowed together as he silently implored me to focus on him for a moment.

‘This could have been worse, though. You scared me. It’s fucking horrible seeing you hurt. Let me go with you next time, because I couldn’t bear it if you came out like this again.’ I’d never seen such an expression on his face before, probably because I’d had no cause to. It was almost one of fear, or extreme worry in some variation. I placed a hand on the one that gripped my elbow, and prised it off, interlocking our fingers and squeezing tightly.

‘Don’t go worrying when there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll look after myself, okay?’

Dave nodded and leant forward slightly. We were both sat on the cold tiles of the bathroom, knees touching, so he didn’t have far to go before his head tilted and his lips made contact with mine, tenderly kissing me. I was slightly indignant at first, but weakened after a moment, allowing his tongue to part my lips.

‘So much for a one-off.’ I murmured through the kiss, and felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards. A volley of knocks at the bathroom door abruptly put an end to our exchange.

‘Quit it, guys! I know what you’re doing. I need to piss!’ Kurt exclaimed from the other side. Even as I got to my feet hurriedly, I made a mental note to make that the last time I kissed Dave… for a while, at least. Europe awaited me.


	6. So, Improvise!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her roadie career cut short, Saffy resumes her old life in the Northwest. With some sound advice from Kathleen and Matt, she is convinced to take an old hobby to the next level.

One more show remained to be performed with both Pearl Jam and Nirvana, at Salem, Oregon. I didn’t go out of my way to avoid Dave, but I didn’t exactly make a point of seeing him either. I ended up sticking with Stone backstage, who I got on with particularly well anyway. A few changes were made in regard to the stage set-up, and I had to do a lot of running about to fetch extra bits and pieces and locate an Ampeg stack that had mysteriously ended up in the Chili Peppers van.

‘I tell you what Saffy, I won’t be sorry to go back to doing clubs when we get to England.’ Stone said to me, hands on hips as I checked his pedalboard for the tenth time during soundcheck. ‘So much simpler… I prefer the crowds too, personally. Must be easier on you too, right?’

‘Mostly,’ I grunted, stretching to reach the roll of gaffer tape. ‘Except when the roof looks like it might fall in. That can be kind of stressful.’

Stone smirked and retrieved a baseball cap from his feet, pulling it on and tucking his ponytail through. ‘Less distractions in other areas too. You’ve got a thing for drummers, don’t you?’

‘Oh, shut up.’ I rolled my eyes and stood up, playfully punching his shoulder. ‘You’re good to go, I think. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll be keeping an eye on things from the wings anyway.’

‘Thanks, Saff.’

The show went smoothly in the end, and I was almost disappointed it was the last of the arena dates just as I was getting used to the way of setting up and the immense satisfaction that came from making it possible for the band to play to such huge numbers. Weirdly enough, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to Dave, and even as I waited in the wings after their set to congratulate him on a good show, he only flashed a quick smile and made his way past us all to find a towel to sling around his sweaty shoulders. It was disconcerting, but I refused to be bothered by it; even when I finally sought him out before the bus left for home, he was nowhere to be found, and I had no option but to leave without saying something a little more final.

We returned to Seattle the next day and I refrained from working the home ground gigs, choosing instead to make the most of being back in the city. Truthfully, there isn’t a whole lot to tell about the next few months; Europe was pretty euphoric, and fascinating for myself as I’d never been abroad before, and the second leg of the North American tour resumed and I ran into Matt in April, during a couple of support slots for Soundgarden in Texas. By June, another European leg came knocking just as, to my dismay, I got my ankle caught underneath a flight case in the process of unloading a cabinet. It caused some pretty intense muscular pain, and a trip to the doctor’s affirmed it was badly sprained. After a week of no improvement whatsoever and completely ineffective pain relief medication, I miserably realised that I couldn’t ignore the fact that it was the very same problematic ankle.

At the same time as the extreme inconvenience of my injury causing my reluctant withdrawal from the tour, I did feel somewhat relieved that I didn’t have to return to Europe. The whole band was exhausted anyway, as the tour was particularly gruelling and relentless. However, an incredible phenomenon was happening amongst the wider cultural focus of America. Soon after the arena dates with Nirvana, one video kept circulating _everywhere._ MTV had Teen Spirit on heavy rotation, something I couldn’t quite believe, and Nevermind was selling fast – unnervingly so. One particular, mind-fuck moment was when I was walking to a friend’s house in the suburbs and I came across a high-schooler’s house party in full swing. Music blared so loudly from the house that I could distinctly make out Kurt’s voice accompanied by kids singing along, every single word shouted passionately . I let out a low whistle as I walked past, totally disbelieving both my ears and eyes.

The album was having a knock-on effect too, in regards to both Ten and Badmotorfinger. Seattle’s brand of heavy alternative rock was fast becoming a commodity, suddenly tagged with the ‘grunge’ label and exploited the world over. This, or course, is something of a potted history of the explosion of the anti-anthem concept and its associated characteristics, but it’s really almost impossible to articulate it any better without writing an entire novel.

So in June of 1992, I found myself back in Seattle, monotonously doing grammar and fact checks from home on semi-useless paperwork fobbed off on me from a local politician (fucking Career Centre, I ask you!) and finding life strangely quiet now I was off the road. I offered to move out of Carrie’s apartment, but she confessed that she wasn’t able to pay the rent on her own, so I was more than willing to stick around. Quite suddenly, everything was back to normal, and apart from the large number of photo prints I’d amassed over the duration of the tour, to look around my flat and at the state of my life as it continued, I might never have even been away.

 

-

 

‘I missed you. I need to take better care of you.’ I hummed quietly as I spoke absent-mindedly to my guitar, turning the tuning pegs endlessly to correct the long-neglected strings. It occurred to me that my playing habits had changed beyond recognition since moving to Seattle; as a teenager in San Francisco, I practised for hours on end until the fretboard blackened my fingers, and I’d had plenty of time to kill in Olympia while my ankle was still troubling me. Now, the endless hours had returned and I was keen to get used to my beloved Danelectro again.

Playing the guitar after a dry spell, it’s kinda like riding a bike. The frets were like home to me. I relearnt a few of my favourite Beatles songs and jammed out a little with some riffs and progressions I’d come up with a while back and always liked. In the process, I realised I’d managed to work out Teen Spirit, which gave me a good laugh. Every time I heard it now, I thought of Kathleen, and the words she’d spray-painted at the New Year’s party. Thinking of her made me feel a little guilty, too; I’d practically cut myself off from Olympia once my ankle healed, and it seemed a little transparent of me to be longing to return just when it got bad again. Still, I wanted to give her a call some time. I knew Bikini Kill had done some really cool stuff, and I admired her hugely for doing what she truly wanted.

‘Fuck it,’ I muttered, and picked up the phone I’d been staring at from the other side of the room for the past ten minutes. Ten, twenty seconds passed.

‘Hi?’

‘Kat, it’s Saffy.’

‘Holy shit! Really?’

‘Uh huh. Is this a good time to talk?’

‘Yeah, I’m not doing much. So it’s been a while. Had fun, have you?’ I thought I detected a hint of bitterness in her voice, and immediately felt even more anxious.

‘It’s been incredible. I’ve been keeping track you know, reading your reviews! Sounds like your shows are wild.’

‘It’s rad, Saffy, it’s just amazing… oh, you know I wished you could have been there. I’ve been thinking about you too, especially once Pearl Jam took off. Kurt doesn’t really like them, you know.’

I stopped in my tracks. ‘I didn’t know. God, I should have asked him! That feels like something I should know, y’know? They’re all super nice guys, actually.’

‘He only means the music. I know he thinks Eddie is pretty nice.’

‘I think I did see them talking, yeah. Do you see them much? Nirvana, I mean.’’

‘Not as much as you’d think. They’ve sort of relocated, actually.’

‘Relocated? How?’

‘Kurt’s in Seattle, him and Tobi were over a while ago. Dave bought an apartment with the Geffen advance, but Krist is still in Tacoma, though in a swanky house now.’

‘I feel bad. I should have asked about this kinda stuff when I saw them.’

‘You were on tour, I bet you were busy. I know you don’t necessarily think of home when you’re on the road, Saff.’

‘Are you with anyone right now?’

‘What, like dating? Nope. You?’

‘I went out with Matt from Soundgarden for a while, then tours complicated things…’

‘The perils of life as a musician. And now?’

‘Nothing’s going on.’

‘Bullshit. You and Dave, on tour together? Spare me the sordid details.’

I grinned. ‘No, Kat, It’s not quite like _that_! We kissed and that’s it, seeing as there’s no logical way things could continue. I guess, any other guy, I might have thrown caution to the wind and thrown myself in headlong, but it’s Dave, y’know? He’s such a good friend, and I want it to stay that way. If anything more happened it would be awkward after.’

‘So you still find him attractive, right? Tell me, does he still tuck his hair behind his ear with his thumb?’

‘Yeah.’

She snorted with laughter. ‘Adorable, right?’

‘Infuriatingly so.’

A muffled bump and shout came from the other side of the line before Kathleen replied. ‘Someone’s at the door. I’ll drive in to Seattle tomorrow, alright? Is three a good time to come over?’

‘Yes! God, that would be great. I’ll see you.’

‘Bye!’ The line hastily went dead, and I stared at the receiver in my hand with a ridiculous grin. Everything had bizarrely, wonderfully come full circle.

 

-

 

Another guitar pick went flying under the sofa as it slipped from my fingers for the fourth time, on account of my playing so vigorously.

‘Clumsy.’ Kathleen commented, ripping a sheet of paper from the notebook she held. ‘I like these. Show me what you’ve got here.’

‘They’re not set to a tune yet.’ I stared at the lyrics scrawled in my atrocious, barely legible handwriting.

‘So, improvise!’ She grinned, and tucked her feet under her knees, gazing at me expectantly.

‘Right…’ I muttered and leant towards my amp, turning up the pre-gain and making the sound a little more gnarly.

I cleared my throat nervously. I’d never sung in front of anybody since playing substitute guitar and backup vocals in Bikini Kill. ‘I’m no great shakes at a melody, alright?’

‘Shush. Go on.’

I sang some lines for just twenty seconds before Kathleen interrupted me.

‘Okay! Stop right there!’ She scrambled to her feet and I watched as she delved into the carrier bag she’d brought with her. ‘I brought a four-track along just in case, and I think we’ll definitely be needing it. Saffy, you should get these down ASAP and have a go at finishing off arrangements and stuff. That would be a seriously cool project, huh?’

‘I guess so… a more productive way to pass the time.’

‘Have you got more like that?’

‘Plenty of dumb scribbles. They don’t mean much.’

‘That’s not massively important right now. But I love the riffs you come up with. I’ve always loved the way you play, that’s why it was kind of a bummer when you couldn’t play with us anymore.’

My eyebrows practically flew up to my hairline. ‘Oh Jesus! I’m really not that great.’

‘You’ve got the right feel to it. I can’t really explain.’

‘I’ll just have to trust your superior instincts then.’ We laughed a little, and I rested my guitar on the floor. ‘We can go out tonight, if you want. Soundgarden are home for a week or two, we might as well see if Matt or Chris are free to hang out.’

‘I like the sound of that.’

 

-

 

‘So Matt, I dunno if you’ve heard, but Saffy is totally recording an EP at home now.’

I elbowed a progressively inebriated Kathleen in the ribs and rolled my eyes. ‘Quit exaggerating.’ She giggled, and stumbled off to talk to someone else across the room.

‘You’ve written some stuff?’ Matt’s eyes widened, and I sighed half-heartedly.

‘Yes. Very basic songs. Just me and a crunchy guitar.’

‘Well, I don’t mind lending a hand. That is, unless you don’t want a drumkit on there?’

I didn’t even pause to consider. ‘That’s fantastic, _yes._ Sounds like this could be a real fun distraction.’ I patted his arm absent-mindedly and rested my elbows on the bar again.

Matt got back to the flat barely ten minutes after Kathleen and I resolved to go out – he still lived in the flat Carrie and I mostly shared, but he only occupied a sofa-bed in the corner and one small cupboard, much to our amusement. For the eighteen hours of the day Matt abstained from sleeping, he was never to be found at home, and seemed to always have a short-term job ready and waiting to occupy the daytime when he wasn’t on tour. He kept to himself more, I noticed, a marked difference from when I went out with him a year previously.

‘Music is never a distraction, Saff.’ he said to me now, flicking the ice cubes in his empty glass with a plastic straw. ‘Not for you or I. Even if you’ve not been creatively involved in it, it’s your lifeblood, isn’t it?’

I lifted my head and looked him in the eye. His face indicated he was totally serious, and his gaze was wide and expectant. I laid my head down on my arms before replying.

‘I guess you’ve hit the nail on the head.’

‘You bet I have.’ Matt rested his chin in his hand and tapped the straw between the gaps on the bar between my splayed fingers. ‘It’s a weird time everyone’s having right now, I know. Nobody ever expected this level of madness. Hell, I played Lollapalooza this year. That was enough of a mindfuck as it was, but this… is all out of our control. Not that I want to put you off though. You’re starting from an entirely new point, and I can’t wait to hear what you’ve got.’

‘Thanks, Matt.’ I grinned and plucked the straw from his fingers, grasping his hand in mine and squeezing it lightly. ‘You sound so wise when you talk like that, you know.’

‘Wise?’ he snorted, ‘Give me a break.’

I closed my eyes and held onto Matt’s hand, my head now horizontal on the bar. My eyelids snapped open again as I felt his other hand gently cup my cheek. He tilted his head to look me in the eye again, aligning himself with my line of vision. For a fleeting (and reluctantly guilty) moment I thought he might kiss me, but he simply smiled warmly, his familiar, comforting features creasing softly and wonderfully, hair flopping into his greyish-brown eyes.

‘Guuuuuys, I wanna get coffee…’ Kathleen flopped down onto the bar stool next to me, poking my shoulder.

‘Sure.’ I replied. I lifted my head again, cleared my throat and signalled to the barman for the bill. The moment had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, no appearance from Dave in this chapter. The next chapter will follow up this one much faster though, I promise.


	7. Best Newcomer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saffy gets productive, and reaps the rewards more rapidly than she expected; life gets turned upside down, but she finds that the people she cares about have already paid part of the price for success.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this seems a little rushed! It's something of a whirlwind, in every sense.

I turned the rectangular chunk of plastic over and over in my hand in wonder before closing it inside its casing and slipping the whole thing inside a brown envelope padded out with bubble wrap.

It was August and my cassette tape was finally done. Matt drummed so well I struggled to stay motivated to keep playing and writing, but he helped me out with some arrangements too, which was a great benefit. I recorded the bass on an old one Matt scrounged off Ben, who rather generously said I could keep it if I wanted. There were eight tracks overall: five heavy, angular tracks that carried my vocals, one calmer and more minimalistic acoustic number, one psychedelic wig-out jam that was purely instrumental and the last a real screamer Kathleen had helped provide joint vocals for, particularly raucous and abrasive. I didn’t want to blow my own trumpet or anything, but I had a terrifically warm feeling of satisfaction at the pit of my stomach now it was completed.

Now though, I flicked the pen back and forth in my hand, wondering who to send the tape to first. My brother Will wouldn’t give a shit, I decided, and we hadn’t spoken in a couple of years now, so that ruled out family. Some of my Seattle friends still hadn’t heard it, but I didn’t really want to send it out to absolutely everybody. The opinion that mattered the most to me was Dave’s, but it took quite a bit of hunting around to get hold of his address. Details like that were becoming increasingly difficult to access now they were America’s newest hot commodity, which was what bothered me principally in the first place.

I copied the address from a scrap of paper to the brown envelope, sealing it closed with nothing more than the tape, and laying it aside to be posted the next time I went out.

The last thing I expected was to get anything back.

 

-

 

His cassette had a yellow paper jacket, with a title, ‘Pocketwatch’ emblazoned in red above a picture of one. I turned it over in my hands and looked at the sleevenotes, curious as to whether this was really what I thought it was. Sure enough, the words 'All songs recorded by Dave G' confirmed my suspicions, and my mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was what he must have been recording with Barrett at Laundry Room. 

I crossed the room and began opening drawers excitedly and rifling through them, finally pulling out my Walkman. I connected it to the speaker and inserted the tape, and then I pressed play. 

It was everything I'd expected and more, interestingly melodic with all the punk sensibilities retained from his own favourite music. Guitars sounded dense and layered on one song, then sparse and simple on another. His singing was wonderfully smooth, and surprisingly similar to his speaking voice. I loved it. 

I guessed this was a private project of sorts; I couldn't see Dave wanting to cash in on the success of Nirvana, and the whole thing sounded resolutely unpandering anyway. Much as I wanted everyone in the world to hear his talent and for him to receive recognition, he was still a drummer with a full time occupation in one of the biggest rock bands around today. Nevertheless, I doubted that he'd mind me showing our own friends though, like Kathleen and Matt and Eddie. I could tell from the issue code on the sleeve that this cassette had been run off multiple times, probably by a tiny, independent distribution company, and no doubt Dave would have sent it off to some other friends too. Still, it was a nice exchange to have: a tape for a tape. Original work. This original work had the capacity to make waves though, and not just for Dave. 

I got a call later in the afternoon, right in the middle of my lunch, and I got up from the table irritably whilst Matt and Carrie rolled their eyes at the intrusion.

'Uh huh?' I said, my mouth full of tuna sandwich. 

'Hey, is this Saffron Hayes?'  

I swallowed and shuddered. 'Yeah. Who is this?' 

'It's Jonathon Poneman, from Sub Pop. I realise this is all a bit out of the blue, but I've heard your demo tape and it's pretty impressive. Have you got any live dates coming up? We’re thinking of sending one of our A&Rs over.' 

And that's when I choked on my supper, and Matt had to rush over and prise the phone out my hand. 

 

- 

 

'Saffy!' 

I whipped around in the fresh spring breeze and clawed my hair awkwardly from my face to identify my summoner. 

'I'm sorry, you're Saffy Hayes, right?' 

I beamed at the girl who stood before me on the sidewalk. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, with black bobbed hair and grubby white overalls. 'Yeah, I am. What's your name?' 

She blushed crimson, and breathlessly said 'Helen.' before extricating a pen from her pocket and a copy of Checkmate. 'Would you mind...?' 

'Not at all.' I took them from her and signed my initials over the Polarity logo, and, as an afterthought added 'Happy listening, Helen' underneath. 

'Are Polarity going to bring out a new album soon?' she asked tentatively. 

'You've heard the rumours, then. We haven't recorded anything new, but we want to get back in the studio ASAP.' 

'Awesome!' she squeaked, and skipped away, seemingly satisfied with her encounter. I shook my head and shoved my hands into the pockets of my cardigan, turning back to continue down the road to the coffee shop. Out of the corner of my eye I saw two young guys whispering and staring as they passed me. My gait was still unsteady even as I walked in my boots, my ankle having resigned itself to awkward stiffness, and though I knew that wasn't why they stared, I couldn't help feeling slightly self-conscious. Nobody really noticed onstage as I had an excuse to stand still, but even if they did, it wasn’t exactly a selling point.

A pile of newspapers lay next to me as I lowered myself into an armchair in the coffee shop. I picked one up absent-mindedly and began to read, alternating between turning pages and dipping biscuits into my mocha. My heart sank as I saw the headline: ‘ _Further speculation over drug habits as grunge star ditches another show’_

'Oh fuck.' I muttered. 'That's just terrific.'

The more I heard about Kurt – and it was almost always negative news – the more concerned I got. I knew what he could be like; the heroin habit he’d picked up was hellishly difficult to shake off. I _knew_ that.

My mind wandered to Dave and Krist, and how they were coping. Since I’d started gigging between Portland and Seattle, signed to Sub Pop, rerecorded the album and completed two West Coast tours, my career had ascended quite alarmingly, and I wasn’t blind to the fact it was probably partially due to the commercial rush to Seattle after the alternative rock boom over the last two years. Still, I had no complaints; to be able to make money playing my own music and performing was like a dream come true, and less like a job than a permanent holiday. The label had let me retain complete creative direction over my music, bar a recommendation or two that I recruit a full band for shows. I knew I wanted to play my Danelectro, so Matt helped me audition bassists and drummers for a couple of weeks. We found a drummer named Lou, a sarcastic but easy-going girl with chin-length blonde hair, and Jonny, who was tall and shy but made the bass look effortless in his hands. A year after that I recruited Carrie too, as some guitar support but also as a favour as she found herself out of work again. Touring was totally different from the experience I thought I knew so well; I felt the fatigue far less than I had as a roadie, and having Carrie to my right on the stage every night took the pressure off a lot. I knew I didn’t want the sole responsibility of fronting the band, and I made it clear that whilst I wrote most of the music, it wasn’t _my_ band as such. The four of us were a team – and that concept was what kept me from being pestered on the street as much as I might have been. The album was well promoted without being stuck under everybody’s nose 24/7, and consequently I’d been enjoying comfortable success to the tune of a platinum record.

The weirdest thing of all was being nominated for a Grammy. When I came up for Best Newcomer, my disbelief was unmeasurable. I’d barely gotten used to seeing my face in magazines and papers (they were marketing the moody, enigmatic image, complete with exaggerated tales of scandalous links to actors), and an accolade was the very last thing I expected to receive. Naturally, I didn’t have a hope of winning whilst a couple of teeny-bopper bands with number one hits were in the category too, but I went along anyway just for the thrill of it and the opportunity to buy a perfect yellow mini-dress, with long sleeves. I paid an obscene amount of money for it too, but so far the only piece of clothing I’d bought with the album royalties was a brand new leather jacket in London, and I felt I could justify that slightly more. At the same ceremony, Teen Spirit got nominated for Best Rock Song, and I was thoroughly looking forward to seeing Kurt, Krist and Dave again. The last time I’d spent any amount of time with them was when I caught a show at the end of 1992 and persuaded the guy on the door to let me in and say hi, but even then, they were just about to be rushed to film a TV appearance, so our conversation was brief to say the least, and I’d had no chance to explain my sudden, weirdly successful creative direction – the album hadn’t even been released.

This time, I arrived to find I’d been seated next to Krist at the tables, and I pulled back my chair and waved him over.

‘Novoselic! You don’t get away that easy!’

‘Speak of the devil, Dave said he spotted you in the photo line. It’s been a fucking year, man!’

‘Something like that. This must seem so weird to you, now that I’m joining you at the awards.’

‘It blows my mind! We picked up a copy of the album on tour and Kurt insisted on listening to it three times over on repeat. He’s really impressed. Hell, we all are.’

‘Oh jeez,’ I clapped my hands to my face in embarrassment. ‘What an ordeal for you.’

‘Honestly, it’s great. No bullshit, man, just the kind of record you always should have made. Right now though,’ he leaned across the table and seized a bottle of wine out of the cooler in the middle, ‘I don’t really wanna remember hearing any pretentious speeches. What do you say we get royally fucked?’

‘I am so up for that.’ _My publicist might just kill me,_ I thought, _but what the hell._

 

-

 

‘You should phone him up, you know.’ Krist yelled into my ear as everyone around us applauded Madonna or someone. ‘It’s weird you guys don’t call each other. I swear to god, you and Dave were like _this_!’ He linked two of his fingers together clumsily to emphasise his point.

‘I know. I plan to, don’t worry.’

‘He pines for you.’ Krist chortled, ‘you should have seen his face when you got nominated.’

‘Is he staying for the party?’ I asked.

‘Of course. You better be too.’

I rolled my eyes as a voice boomed across the huge room, announcing the category I was nominated in. I held my breath half-heartedly as the envelope was opened and the award winners were called out, but as expected, it was some other group that won. Suddenly a cameraman scuttled over to the table and this huge piece of kit was thrust in my face. I could almost see my reflection in the convex lens, and I smiled weakly, heart thumping. In the next second, he was gone, and Krist leant over to shout in my ear again.

‘You’ll get used to that. Doesn’t seem fair that you should have to, does it? It’s all part and parcel of the experience.’

‘One of the worst parts, I think. That’s just so weird.’

‘Just wait until they get some scandalous story about you in the paper. Interviews become hell, and it’s all people ever ask you about in the street. Not that I want to discourage you from success, Sarge. There’s more perks than cons!’

‘I know.’ I bit my lip; nothing had yet been said about the situation with Kurt, and I desperately wanted to know if everything was okay. ‘I also know you’ve had your fair share of the cons.’

‘We can only be there for each other.’ Krist’s brow furrowed in thought, before he continued more light-heartedly. ‘Defend each other from the corporate mass media! We shall not be preyed upon.’ He wagged his finger in my face comically, and I couldn’t help cracking a smile. ‘That’s the spirit, young soldier. Speaking of which, how’s the war wound?’

I shrugged, ‘Not as bad as it was in Olympia. I’m getting physio but I’m still not walking right.’

‘Oh man. At least you can afford to do something about it these days.’

‘Now _that's_ my biggest perk.’

The afterparty was at a swanky, old-fashioned hotel beside a lake, and once I was inside, it wasn’t difficult to spot Dave; I caught sight of him in the corner of the bar, surveying the crowds of besuited men and adorned women over a gin and tonic, and wearing a cynical expression. He saw me coming from about ten metres away, and his eyes widened with recognition as he stood up, pushing his drink away from him.

‘Jesus, you look amazing!’ Just the smooth, familiar sound of his voice completed the evening and made it blissful. His hair, cut shorter the previous summer to curl under his ears, was now growing out and reached past his shoulders again, and now I buried my nose in it as he clutched me in a hug. That only lasted for two seconds though, as he held my elbows at arm’s length to take a good look at me. ‘You look so… _well._ I don’t know.’

‘Might have something to do with the new direction. I have a bit more disposable income now – I don’t just live on noodles any more, you know.’

‘I wasn’t surprised when I heard. Congratulations on that nomination too. I know neither of us won, but hey, I get to see you again.’ He smiled, suddenly self-conscious, and his hands fell to his sides.

I glanced around the room once again, searching for an exit. ‘Let’s get out. I need a smoke, and it’s too loud to talk properly in here.’ He nodded and took my hand surreptitiously, pulling me around the side of the crowd and out of some double French doors, where steps led down to the lake. Withdrawing a pack of Marlboros from the pocket of my coat, I sat on one of the stone banisters behind a stone lion, and Dave sat opposite me. The lake lapped softly at its artificial banks, extending into an endless inky mass; it was already late, the early hours of the morning. I threw the pack and a lighter to Dave, and his hands and face were illuminated with an orange glow as he lit up.

‘I don’t think I’ve seen you this dressed up since New Year of ninety one.’

‘We’ve not really seen each other at all.’ I said matter-of-factly.

‘That’s the price you pay, Miss Hayes, when you sell out.’

I rolled my eyes, and squinted in the darkness, but I couldn’t tell from his face whether he was being sarcastic or not. He continued anyway.

‘None of us asked to win Grammys, or be followed everywhere we go, or have lies written about us. I doubt you did either. It’s just nice to get the appreciation for the music, right?’

I got up and crossed the steps to sit beside him on the stone banister. It was unnerving how close I was to him now, especially after so long. He turned his face towards mine, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek. His eyes shone brightly with the reflection of the scene behind us through the glass doors, but his face betrayed no emotion. My throat constricted horribly as I realised I had nothing else to say, that our conversation had turned bitter and cynical so quickly. Dave had changed, there was no doubt about that, and I didn’t know what to say to this new, pensive version of my old friend. Instead, I sat silently as we finished our cigarettes. I threw mine in the lake, and rested a hand on his forearm an attempt to convey familiarity. It represented everything that went unsaid, and he clasped it in his own hand and squeezed tightly, like he never wanted to let go.


	8. Missing Persons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saffy has some worries and suspicions, and reconnects with Dave to clear them up.

My eyes had glazed over as I reminisced in the coffee shop armchair; the Grammys had been about nine months previously, and since then I’d been on another tour of America and Europe, this time with Bikini Kill. Suffice to say, it was kind of like having my mind blown open to a whole new experience: _performing_. I finally felt as though I could relate to the experiences Kurt, Krist and Dave were having, though perhaps not quite on such a huge scale. At the same time, I saw plenty of things that weren’t so great either, though hardly unexpected either. Drugs flew around like dust in the air, as I got offered stuff left, right and centre. I knew Kurt wanted to kick his heroin habit, but in the meantime I could understand how that could be difficult when temptation came charging around every corner. I was never quite able to understand the appeal, though, and the messy pink lines on my ankle only served to remind me.

Nineteen ninety-three drew to a close at an impossible pace, and I still couldn’t quite believe that this was now my life. For the most part though, I was able to live my daily routine around Seattle without too much bother, and I consciously set aside a few months free from touring or promotional stuff. I kept up my physio sessions, but had recently come to a sort of dead end; the woman said that by now the damage was most likely terminal. After reading and researching a load of twaddle about alternative medicines, I gave up, and decided that if I’d been living with it for this long already, I could probably go on putting up with it.

The newspaper article I read now continued in much the same way as most of the gossipy columns that had been flying around recently. Since sending the Dave my cassette tape way back when, I wasn’t entirely sure if he still had the same address now. If Kurt was missing shows now for reasons other than laryngitis or fatigue, I felt spurred on to find out just what was going on and offer my support if it was needed.

Despite my promise to myself to refrain from moving about too much, I ended up visiting the management in San Francisco for a few days to discuss changes to the publishing rights, as the material for the new album had recently become more collaborative, and I’d agreed with Jonny and Lou that the royalties would be split more evenly between us, as it was only fair. On my way back, in a purely aesthetic decision, I decided to do the two day drive from LA to Seattle rather than fly, just so I could take my time and make some stops to take in the scenery. The amount of time I’d spent in solitude since being signed had dropped significantly, especially whilst we were on tour, and I revelled in the peace and calm from the driver’s seat of the hired convertible I’d picked up from the airport. The eight hour drive the first day was punctuated by a couple of snack & gas stops and the Smashing Pumpkins’ new album on repeat. The second day, I woke up in the little bed in the motel I’d stayed in and made up my mind to drive straight through the city when I got to Seattle and see Dave. The last time I’d spoken to him had been on the phone on New Year’s Day three months ago, and he’d seemed in very good humour after getting back from visiting his family in D.C. for Christmas. I hadn’t spoken to Kurt and Krist since the Grammys, and I hadn’t a clue where either of them actually lived now. _No,_ I thought, _if I want to find out exactly what’s going on then I should call in on Dave._

 

-

 

I knew the address well enough, but I had no clue what his house was like. It took four hours from setting off in the morning, and instead of listening to another album, I kept the radio on. I pulled up in the driveway behind another smart-looking car and gazed up at Dave’s house, which was a modest affair for the kind of money I knew he now had, but still quite large and equally smart-looking. I paused for a couple of seconds in the driver’s seat before getting out of the car, hastily piecing together in my mind what I was going to say.

_Hi Dave, I know it’s been a while, I’ve been worried about Kurt so do you wanna tell me what’s going on?_

I shuddered, and chided myself inwardly for the millionth time. _It’s just good old Dave. As ever._

I didn’t have to knock though; even as I slammed the door shut and locked the car, I heard a click as the front door opened and a figure was semi-silhouetted in the hallway.

‘Well well well. The lone wanderer has arrived.’

I looked up, shielding my eyes from the bright spring sunlight, and grinned when I saw Dave leaning on the doorframe, wearing a dark t-shirt & jeans and smirking in recognition. ‘You bet. I just drove up from San Fran.’

‘Holy shit, really? Here, have you got bags?’ He stepped down off the porch and wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

‘No, just the overnight bag from the drive…’

‘Pass it to me then.’

‘Oh, I don’t want to be staying for very long, I’m just passing by.’

‘To hell you are. Come on, I just started making lunch.’

I complied and followed him inside, taking care to wipe my shoes on the mat. However, the inside of the house wasn’t so much the kind of place that necessitated wiping your shoes. Not untidy, but definitely a bachelor pad. I followed him into the kitchen, which was practical but still pretty full of mahogany and chrome. _Damn, what a change from Pear Street._

‘It was cool you decided to drop in. Is there an occasion, or did you just want to hang out?’

I bit my lip; now, whether to be entirely truthful, or deliberate a little longer…

‘Both, actually. I realise I have a pretty good idea of the state of your professional life, but I don’t think we’ve caught up on a personal level in a _long_ time.’

‘That’s very considerate of you.’ Dave replied light-heartedly, filling up a kettle from the kitchen tap and flicking it on. ‘I could say the same. Tell me about recording, how’d you find it? And where are you staying now, like permanently?’

For about an hour, it was like barely five minutes had passed since the Grammys, heck, even Olympia. At least this time, Dave seemed sunnier in disposition, and far more like his incredibly talkative self. Sat side by side at his kitchen table, knees pulled up onto the chair seats, we confessed the most significant details of the past couple of years – or at least I did, anyway. It turned out Dave was still totally confused about whether I was still with Matt or not, especially after he’d helped me out on the demo, and I assured him that wasn’t really a thing anymore.

‘Thank god for that.’ he sighed in response.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. ‘Why so relieved?’

‘Well you know, on the Chili Peppers’ arena tour… I felt pretty bad about that at times. Thinking that you and I were all over each other whilst you and he were still together.’

‘Woah, no! That was over before the tour. We were never terribly serious in the first place, it wasn’t such a great leap to split up altogether.’

Dave paused for a second, as though taking this information in, and wrapped his hands tightly around his mug. ‘So that wasn’t the reason you were so stand-offish at the time?’

‘Stand-offish? I told you, it was a week-long part of a tour, it wasn’t practical!’

‘I thought that was just an excuse…’ he mumbled.

‘Believe it or not, I try to have foresight about these things.’ I replied irritably. ‘Come on, it really wasn’t convenient!’

‘I was ‘inconvenient’, was I?’ His eyes flashed with hurt, and his feet dropped down from the chair to the floor.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean that!’ I impulsively reached forward and cupped his face in my hands, forcing him to look me in the eye. ‘Please believe me. You mean more to me than a fling on a tour bus. I didn’t want to cheapen what we had by jumping into it headlong and throwing it away again when we said goodbye.’

I could see he believed me.‘Okay,’ he sighed. 'I'm sorry. It was a long time ago... I don't know.' He interlocked his fingers with mine. ‘And besides, I trust you. I know you want to know what’s going on… and it’s not a simple explanation, so I’ll just have to be frank.’

I nodded. ‘I’m listening.’

‘You know Kurt has some problems. The long and short of it is that he’s got a heroin habit.’

‘I know.’ I said quietly.

‘Oh. Well… I’m sure you know about what happened in Rome. That was outlined pretty accurately by the press. He seemed okay soon after that though, which was weird. I guess you know he has some bad spells with depression too. And then a week or two ago he checked into rehab.’ His speech was stilted, as though he was choosing his words very carefully, and he’d drawn his feet back up to the edge of the chair. ‘Except a couple of days ago he got out and… and we’re not really sure where he is. Courtney filed a missing persons report with the police. I’ve been sitting here feeling utterly powerless for about forty-eight hours and I’m trying to stay calm but I feel sort of ill.’

‘Jesus.’ My mind spun at a hundred miles per hour, conjuring up the worst possible scenarios, but I took a deep breath and concentrated on being logical. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’

‘Oh god… I spoke to him on the phone after Rome.’

‘Is that it?!’

‘It’s weird, isn’t it? I just… don’t see him. I don’t know about Krist. We all sort of _get on_ , but I can’t remember the last time we even, I don't know, all had a drink!’

‘Yeah. It is weird. But I guess you all have so much going on, it’s partly natural too. I mean, Kurt has Courtney and Frances. Krist is married…’ I tailed off, afraid of making him feel worse by pointing out an apparent lack of companionship.

‘I get it, I really do. Nothing’s really worked out.’ He buried his hands in his hair. ‘Nobody sticks around long enough.’

 _He means you too,_ a small voice at the back of my mind insisted. I scrambled for a way to respond. ‘Well, I have my overnight bag with me, don’t I? I’m free right now. For months. So we might as well hang out this week, at the very least, right?’

Dave raised his head, and smiled broadly at me, lifting my spirits and bringing back my hopes of providing a welcome distraction. From what I’d just heard, he was badly in need of one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, catching up with myself a bit... this is still old writing, but I'll have to get cracking or otherwise I'll get to a point where I've published everything I've written with no back-up!


	9. Almost Too Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saffy stays at Dave's house for a while, and they clear a LOT of stuff up... it's a little too good to be true.

‘I do have a spare room, but there’s not a bed yet, Saff.’

No amount of insistence on Dave’s part would convince me to take his bed and let him sleep on the sofa. So, at half past one, I found myself trying to find the comfiest arrangement of cushions to accompany the copious amounts of blankets he’d brought downstairs for me.

I couldn’t drop out of wakefulness though, and it was nothing to do with my sleeping arrangements. Dave’s words replayed over and over again in my head. _Out of rehab. Missing persons report. Utterly powerless._

I felt crushed with regret for not trying to get in contact with Kurt after the Grammys, but I’d be lying if I said it had been the first thing on my mind. Recently I’d been far too occupied with advancing my own prospects rather than checking up on old friends; though I realised that in a case like this, anyone who knew Kurt well at some point was probably feeling equally queasy at the thought they could have done something to help the situation. And although he hadn’t exactly distanced himself, he was never a particularly social person either.

In my state of insomnia, I gave up trying to clear my mind and steady my breathing, and followed the demands of my scratchy dry throat in searching for a glass of water.

I wandered into the kitchen as quietly as I could, shivering as my bare feet made contact with the chilly tiles. It didn’t take long for me to locate the light switch and then the cupboard containing drink glasses, but as I twisted the cold tap faucet and filled the cup, I spotted an envelope carrying some familiar writing that sat on top of the microwave. My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to take a closer look. I racked my brains to think whose face the lettering matched, and suddenly two incidences came to my head.

Titles of tracks on the cassette labels of my demo. A phrase spray-painted on Kurt’s wall that would be immortalised in the most unlikely way. I might have not seen that handwriting very often, but it was definitely Kathleen.

 

_Hi Dave,_

_I don’t write letters very often to more than just a couple of people, but I thought it was appropriate, and this one’s only short anyway. I hope everything’s okay with you, personally I mean. I guess you’ve heard the stuff Saffy’s been doing, I think it’s pretty fucking cool and she’s touring with us now anyway so I still see her a lot. I don’t know if you guys still talk or not (if not then why not?!) but I hope that part of your life is good too._

_I read a lot about Kurt in the press, which I know is likely to be bullshit for the most part, but I heard you cancelled Lollapalooza, so I just wanted to check up on how he his – and Krist too, the band as a whole. We did a media blackout recently, you know, seems like it works pretty well. I was getting fed up with a lot of stuff being circulated so we just thought, what the hell, let’s wear balaclavas if we have to do publicity, and stay out of everyone’s way in the meantime! I recommend it, though I can’t imagine you guys pulling knitwear over your heads._

_Well, I’ll see you whenever we’re on the same bill next time around, unless I bump into you anytime sooner. Don’t let the drummer jokes get you down._

_Kathleen_

I folded the letter guiltily, and slid it back into the envelope. Damn. I knew I probably shouldn’t have read that, but it didn’t exactly contain incriminating revelations about anyone or anything. It was nice to know they still continued a correspondence of some kind, even if it was still just one-sided and if Dave hadn’t yet replied. I drained the last of my water from my glass, and placed it carefully on the draining board, padding quietly back through the hallway to the living room and my bed on the sofa.

 

-

 

Shrieks echoed in my ears, and my eyes were blinded by floodlights. My shoulders ached with the weight of the guitar slung across my torso, and I looked down to see my fingers sliding around, playing out a familiar song. To my relief, I didn’t even have to think about what I was doing, it came so easily to me. This left me free to observe my surroundings and evaluate the stage; I spun around on the spot and looked towards the drum riser, where Matt was thrashing out rhythms for all the world to see. Kathleen jumped around like a pogo stick, perilously close to the edge of the stage.

‘ _That girl thinks she’s the queen of the neighbourhood’_

I whirled around, frantically searching for my pedalboard.

_‘That girl, she holds her head up so high’_

It was as though a cloud of white noise had descended over my ears; all my senses were bombarded, kids throwing themselves over the barrier.

‘ _I think I wanna be her best friend’_

Just as frustration and panic threatened to override the adrenaline kick, I heard a calm, gentle voice saying my name, somehow worming its way through my hearing despite the decibels bursting from the speaker stacks.

‘Saffy.’

Dave stood before me, his brown hair curling softly, his eyes focused on mine. He, too, was playing a guitar, and did so with an almost lazy elegance – strange, because he was usually so ungainly.

He leant in closer towards me, and I could feel the warm breath on my cheek as he spoke again, only it was getting more and more difficult to hear him now over the sounds of the auditorium. The chaos culminated in a whisper and a scream.

‘Did you sleep well?’

_‘REBEL GIRL!’_

_-_

 

I tensed suddenly, squinting as a shaft of light pierced through my eyelids and summoned me into consciousness. That and the hesitant prod on my shoulder.

‘Saffy? Sorry for waking you.’

It _was_ Dave, sitting gingerly on the arm of the sofa and hovering over me. I breathed in deeply, stretching and brushing the hair out of my eyes.

‘It’s fine… I haven’t slept too long, have I?’

‘It’s nearly midday, but I don’t mind.’

‘Oh Jesus.’ I forced myself into an upright position and smiled, still bleary-eyed. ‘Sorry. Is it too late for breakfast?’

Half an hour later we were in a café, and I was demolishing a stack of blueberry pancakes whilst Dave looked on with his black coffee. ‘Did you find the touring pretty draining?’ he asked.

‘Not at first, only after about a month. We had a nicer tour bus but damn, I could have done with a plane.’

‘Give it time and maybe you will. I don’t find it too difficult, but it was way fucking easier when I was eighteen, that’s for sure. I still prefer a beat-up old van.’

‘Still such a grimy punk kid at heart. You don’t fool me.’ I snorted.

‘Guilty as charged.’

‘We don’t really change that much though, do we? I just slept on your sofa again. The last time I did that was…’ ‘Christmas nineteen ninety.’ Dave replied, straight off the bat before I could even pause to try and recollect. ‘I slept on the sofa and you slept on me.’ The corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. ‘Since you were so exhausted after wrapping everyone’s presents – which, by the way, was not necessary but very touching.’

I blushed at his words. ‘I remember vaguely. God, that was me hanging onto some memories.’

‘It was my first Christmas away from home, remember? So when you made that extra effort, it was comforting… and if you hadn’t been around, those months I lived with Kurt would have been a lot more bleak. You know what Olympia’s like.’

‘I do.’ I nodded, and touched the tips of his fingers with mine across the table. We both looked up in the same instant, and whereas I might usually have plastered a quick smile onto my face, as you do when you make eye contact with someone, I just let my eyes wander over his face for several seconds.

‘I missed this so much. I missed you.’ His voice dropped to a whisper, and I had to strain my ears to hear him. ‘Why did we spend so long apart? What the fuck was that for?’

‘What do you mean?’ I frowned, and interlocked my fingers with his over the lacquered table top.

Dave opened his mouth and shut it again, as though deciding against whatever it was he was about to say. ‘Let’s go. Come on.’

He paid, and I made no complaint, already so apprehensive about the gravity of his mood that I was reluctant to make a fuss. We got to the pavement outside but kept walking. I held my breath a little and willed the surge of adrenalin that made my hands shake slightly to go away. That was the problem, I recalled from a Biology textbook, with the human fight or flight system. We have the ability to envisage possibilities that are not real and initiate that stress response; it’s one of the costs of higher brain function. _Why the hell did I drop out of college anyway?_

Dave laughed shakily. ‘This is probably weird for me to be so secretive. I’ll just get it out.’ He began to swing the hand that held mine back and forth as we walked. ‘Do you feel any different to when you did on the arena tour?’

‘Um… a little older. A little wiser.’ I was stalling and we both knew it.

‘Saffy.’

‘Okay, yes.’

‘ _What?’_

He stopped walking and dropped my hand, and I turned to face him. ‘I was kind of crazy about you. But now I’m not crazy, I’m just… I love you.’

Dave stepped forward and swept my hair aside from my cheek with his hand. And before I could say another word, his lips were already on mine.

 

-

 

‘I still can’t believe it.’ I said breathlessly as Dave unlocked his front door. ‘Are you sure? I mean, totally sure?’

‘I have at least two months, you have three, I couldn’t be _any_ more sure. I don’t want to put it off any longer. Don’t ask me when I started to love you, I just know it’s been disproportionate to the amount of time I’ve ever spent with you.’

I collapsed into the chair in the hall and buried my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes until I saw stars.

‘Saffy? Are you okay?’ he asked, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

‘Woah… yeah. I could – I could almost cry.’

‘Oh, don’t do that.’ Dave laughed nervously.

‘This doesn’t feel real at all. It’s almost too perfect!’

‘It’s just right! Don’t feel like you don’t deserve to be happy. You’ve made me far happier than I could imagine being this time yesterday! You’ve waited so long, it’s about fucking time you get to feel good.’

He prised my hands away from my watery eyes and touched my forehead with his – and relief washed over me as I finally let myself believe that he was all mine, that he wanted it just as much as I did. We had months. Beyond that, the choice was ours; the freedom was tantalising.

‘Wow.’ I sighed. ‘Perhaps I’ll just have to convince myself I’m living in a dream then.’

Dave crouched down to face me and pinched the back of my hand lightly. ‘There. That’s reality.’ He gazed at me with imploring eyes, and I finally broke into a grin.

‘Okay. I believe you.’

I returned his kiss in solidarity, only this time intensifying it. It was a glorious feeling, one that I hadn’t come close to since our frivolities on the arena tour, and even that didn’t get very far. Now, there was only one thing I wanted.

 

-

 

I’d only been wearing jeans and a t-shirt, as usual, but Dave got them off like lightning.

‘It’s strange… I’ve never been inside a bedroom of yours before.’

‘I didn’t even have one until I got this house last year. I still slept on people’s sofas.’

‘It’s very soft.’ I grinned. ‘And very nice.’

I brushed my hand along the sheets either side of his legs as I sat in his lap in my underwear, chests touching slightly and my thighs wrapped around his torso. His hands spread languidly over my waist and hips and his lips planted kisses up the side of my neck. I couldn’t quite believe the position we were in, considering I’d resigned myself to just being friends years ago.

Dave’s hands travelled up my ribcage and applied pressure either side of my chest just as I sought out his lips again and pressed my tongue against his. Impatiently, I guided his hands behind my back, where he fiddled with my bra for a second before I pulled it away and brushed it behind me. He broke off the kiss to appraise me.

‘Hang on,’ he breathed, ‘I’ve waited four years to look at you.’

‘I’m not the only one.’ I replied, propping my hands on my hips playfully.

‘Well, if it’s any consolation, you exceed expectations.’ Dave teased, easing my pants down my legs, and I kicked them off before lightly pushing him back onto the pillows by his shoulders.

I scoffed. ‘You smell even better than I remember. Maybe it’s the lack of clothing.’

I sat back slightly and pulled down his underpants, allowing for a moment of slight surprise. Dave reached behind me to grasp the backs of my thighs as I slid my hips forward and down, unable to inhibit a gasp. His eyes widened with surprise and relief; finally, our limbs interlocked in something other than a platonically comforting embrace, and as soon as he filled me, it was as though the whole dynamic shifted. There was a tangible change in the air between us, and I couldn’t get enough of him. I rolled my hips forward in as fluid a motion as possible whilst he traced a line of open-mouthed kisses along my collar bone, smiling slightly as we made eye contact again in amusement at my responsiveness. I pressed my body down harder, squeezing with my thighs at the same time and drawing a faint groan from his parted lips. Grasping fistfuls of my hair, Dave cupped the back of my head as he pulled my mouth back to his and pushed me around back onto the mattress, carefully laying me down amongst the pillows. The frustration and impatience dissipating for a moment, his large brown eyes focused softly on mine and we breathed for a second, noses barely touching. And then, just as his tongue slipped between my lips, the momentum began again with twice the intensity. I reached a hand down to add to the sensation, but found it batted away by his, already second-guessing my intentions and circling my clit with his finger. I moaned into his mouth, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. Rather than let me orgasm through this alone, it was all I could do not to cry out in protest as he pulled away from me, hovering further down and tickling my lower abdomen with the tips of his hair. His tongue pushed between my legs, flickering masterfully.

It certainly wasn’t an illusion – this was really happening. I relished the touch of his familiar hands reaching unfamiliar places, and the disappearance of the inhibition that had hindered us for so long. As his face appeared in front of mine again, carrying a fervently covetous expression, the new taste on his lips seemed excitingly illicit. With another slight shift of movement, he was lunging forward again and running his fingers through my scalp as his bony pelvis dug into mine; he could quite literally not have gotten any closer, but of course that didn’t deter him from raggedly persisting and bringing me to orgasm faster.

Within another couple of minutes, we were collapsed between the sheets, exhausted but unable to extricate ourselves from one another. I clutched Dave to me, not wanting to discontinue the skin-to-skin contact.

‘Saff? You okay?’ he whispered tentatively in my ear.

‘Yep. Fantastic.’ I breathed, and closed my eyes in absolute bliss.

 

-

 

For once, I woke before Dave, and was able to watch him sleep for what I suspected was the first time ever. His breathing was reassuringly steady, and his hair fell across his eyes, innocently masking his face, and his lips were slightly parted. From the light outside, I guessed it was somewhere between eight and nine in the morning. The last time I’d woken up to another face in front of mine was when I was with Matt, and that was in rather emotionally different circumstances. I propped my head up with a hand, resting my elbow on the pillow. Staying with Dave and becoming a part of his life would be an entirely new experience for me; mine and Matt’s lifestyles might have overlapped a fair bit, but we were less like romantic partners and far more like partners in crime, joking around, getting drunk and hanging out, with a bit of mutual respect, soul-searching and experimental sex thrown in for good measure. It was a recipe for fun, but the missing link was the absolute adoration, the remarkable interdependence and longevity of the whole emotion itself. I now had all this with Dave and more, with the added bonus of being completely and totally in love.

With an unflattering snort and fluttering of eyelids, he woke suddenly, and breathed in deeply.

‘Hey.’ I said quietly.

‘Mm… hi Saffy.’ His eyes opened up properly, and he flung an arm lazily over my shoulder. ‘God, it’s nice to wake up to your face.’

‘I was just thinking the same thing.’ I kissed his nose playfully and pushed the covers back, spotting my pants on the floor and pulling them on, and then tugging open a drawer beside his wardrobe. ‘Do you mind if I borrow a t-shirt or sweater? Sort of like an inaugural morning-after thing?’

‘Of course I don’t mind!’ Dave’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, and he hopped out of bed and swiped his own underpants off the floor. ‘Here, have this. It’s quite big… should be nice and comfy.’ He lifted a dark red t-shirt from the drawer, and held it over me. ‘Lift your arms up.’

I squeezed my eyes shut as he hoisted it over my head, flicking my hair out of the neckline, and as he reached for a button-up hanging on the bedpost, the phone rang and he left the room, still flipping his collar up. I paused in front of the mirror and critically surveyed the circles under my eyes for a second before wandering down the stairs and peering into the hallway where he’d picked up the phone.

Except the carefree, slightly bleary-eyed expression of content that graced his boyish features just minutes before had been wiped away. He held the phone away from his ear slightly as someone’s panicked voice came down the line, and just the look of utmost shock in his eyes terrified me.

I knew something was seriously wrong when he dropped the phone. It dangled back and forth on the cord, knocking against the chair I’d sat in the previous evening – though now Dave sat there instead, and it was him with his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is tense, oops.


	10. Lift. Swing. Drop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A big shock, a quiet moment, and a re-adjustment period.

I sat cross-legged on the sofa, watching the headlines roll over the news. My mouth and throat were painfully dry and every colour on the screen was garish and painful to my eyes. There it was, in stark writing, the fact that Dave had hysterically protested couldn’t be true, that everybody must be lying. This just didn’t, shouldn’t, and couldn’t happen. I hated euphemisms, but the word ‘suicide’ made me want to roll over and disintegrate into the carpet.

The morning passed in a haze. Neither of us got dressed. The phone calls came thick and fast, until I had to disconnect the line altogether. There wasn’t even an initial shock. It was like a constant state of detachment, heightened by the fact that neither Dave nor I spoke more than a couple of sentences to one another for a very long time. And for longer yet, I doubted the world would ever align back into normalcy again, though of course it did. One of the most intensely felt things about bereavement is the utter disbelief that the planet can keep turning, the clocks can keep ticking, and life can go on afterwards. That you will wake up another morning, and another, and another. And someone else won’t.

 

-

 

We couldn’t stay in the same position for more than an hour; much as it was preferable, in the interests of normal human activity, we had to do something.

I cleared my throat and took a deep, shaky breath. ‘I’m going to run a bath.’

Truth be told, I don’t remember much at all about the rest of that day, week or month. But this stuck in my mind. Don’t ask me what it meant – in its essence, it was immensely painful at the time, but the action itself confirmed so many other things. I climbed the stairs at an achingly slow pace (after all, what was the point of rushing anything now?) and yanked Dave’s shirt over my head again, wandering into the bathroom and twisting the hot faucet. Turning back, I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and couldn’t help staring incredulously. Sixty minutes earlier, I was just as alive as I was now; apart from my reddened eyes and drooping lids, barely anything had changed. I lifted my wrist up to my face, scrutinised the translucent blue lines, pressed my fingers against the gentle pulse between the tendons. The urgency of life, plus the water that trickled loudly into the enamel bathtub made me wince. I wanted a soft, familiar sound. Padding across the landing towards the doorway of the bedroom, I picked up the record sleeve that lay on the lid of the record player at the end of the bed: Sticky Fingers. The corners of my mouth twitched into a small smile, what felt like the first one in a lifetime. The routine was reassuring; slide record out. Lift onto turntable. Swing needle across. Drop.

I returned and checked the temperature of the bath, turned the taps to halt the flow of water and lifted a leg tentatively over the edge of the tub. As the strains of music reached my ears through the open doors and across the landing, I closed my eyes, drawing my legs up towards my chest and squeezing tightly in an attempt to summon some strength back to my limp muscles.

A creak came from the doorway. I didn’t have to turn around, but even if I wanted to, the stiffness in my neck would have made it difficult. Wordlessly and without making eye contact, Dave climbed into the bathtub opposite, his face totally unreadable, and drew his legs up to his chest in the same way. He picked my hands up from beneath the water, and clasped them under his chin, finally swivelling his gaze up towards mine in time with another lull in the music, as the last song finished and the next one began. We did nothing but stare for a long time, drinking in one another’s focus and attention until our skin wrinkled and the water grew tepid. Strands of hair stuck damply to our foreheads, which were pressed together. For just a moment, the life forces in him and me made me _want_ the clocks to keep ticking, and for our time together to continue. Snatches of softer guitar flowed and echoed through the house and my breathing settled to match the tempo I loved.

‘Wild Horses.’ I whispered, barely audible, but enough for Dave to hear, and he nodded. If Kurt couldn’t wake up another morning, then I wanted to make sure the ones I did would be with Dave.

 

_I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie_

_I have my freedom but I don't have much time_

_Faith has been broken, tears must be cried_

_Let's do some living after we die_

_Wild horses couldn't drag me away_

With a final chiming chord, Jagger’s voice faded to nothing, and the record hissed to a halt. I went to flip it over, but Dave pulled me back.

‘No more. Not now.’

 

-

 

_Four months later_

‘More post… I opened the ones that looked like bills. There’s some with a handwritten address.’ I bent down to plant a kiss on Dave’s cheek before putting the envelopes down in front of him at the kitchen table.

‘Thanks.’ He replied absent-mindedly, and smiled up at me complacently. I was still worried though. The record player was swathed with dust, the skins on his drum kit unusually lacking in dents; this wasn’t like him, to still be so detached from the thing that sustained him the best. Music had vanished from the house, and it didn’t feel right.

‘There’s a postcard here. From… wow. Seven Year Bitch.’

‘Huh?’ I turned away from spooning instant coffee into two mugs, and peered at the card in his hands. ‘What does it say?’

Dave paused, his eyes skimming the writing. ‘Um… here, you read it.’

‘That’s quite something. Shit.’

‘Yeah.’

‘They know what it’s like, you know.’

‘I do know… I don’t want to never play music again.’

I bit my lip and sat in the kitchen chair opposite him. It wasn’t necessary to ask why. Dave tucked his hair behind his ears again and grinned slightly.

‘Well, you’ll never guess who I got a call from yesterday.’

‘Who?’

‘Only Tom Petty.’

‘Look at you, consorting with the stars. What was he calling about?’

‘He wants me to fill in on drums for him… on Saturday Night Live.’

‘No way! What?! That’s crazy!’ I sprang to my feet in delight. ‘Do you think you’ll do it?’

A grin spread slowly across Dave’s face, and I knew he was barely containing his excitement. ‘Yeah. Why wouldn’t I?’

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders from behind and kissed his cheek playfully. ‘I’m almost looking forward to seeing you on TV again.’

‘ _You_ won’t be watching me on a screen! I’m sure we can get you a seat in the studio. You’re a bit of a well-known personality now, it shouldn’t be difficult.’

‘Personality?’ I snorted. ‘The last interview I gave was six months ago. It was the most boring thing I’ve sat through in my entire life, I doubt I revealed any sort of personality.’

‘You’re such a character and you just don’t know it.’

‘Yes, let’s get onto the topic of unknown virtues and then you have to believe me when I tell you how wonderfully you sing!’

‘No no no!’ Dave clamped his hands over his ears.

‘Yes, I still have your cassette. You can’t lie.’ I giggled as I tried to prise them away. ‘Fine. Hey, come on, I’ll get my guitar and we can jam and sing together, so you don’t feel so self-conscious.’

‘Okay…’ he narrowed his eyes. ‘If you insist.’

‘I dooooo!’ I sang, prompting him to stand up with a grin and hook his arms underneath mine, lifting me into the air.

‘What would I do without you, huh? To rehearse with me and cheer me up and constantly amaze me?’ Dave gently lowered me back onto the floor, his voice taking on a serious tone again. ‘What on earth have I ever done for you?’

‘Oh my god... I actually have to put this into words?’

He shrugged, looking guilty. I crossed my arms.

‘I guess it’s not all conscious. It’s like you’ve done me a favour by example, showed me how to stay grounded. Especially after everything took off. And even when I first met you, I had such a pessimistic outlook. I was in a bad place. If you hadn’t come to stay with Kurt… I’d probably have sunk even deeper. I might even be homeless, I don’t know.’ I smiled at Dave’s look of surprise. ‘You dragged me out of my room and onto the street every now and then, took me to shows and parties. I didn’t tell you at the time, but that did a lot for me, physically and mentally, far more than you realise.’

‘I’m… I’m glad that helped. You’re right. I didn’t know.’ He paused, resting his hands on my shoulders earnestly. ‘That’s got to change! I need to start doing stuff on purpose.’

‘Aw, stop that.’ I leant forward and head-butted his chest lightly, coming to rest with my cheek beneath his collar bone and his comforting scent filling the breath I took in.

‘I want to take care of you.’ Dave stroked my hair lightly, the ends of his own hair tickling my forehead. ‘But I know you can take care of yourself better than anyone, so we’ll have to avoid this becoming some sort of battle of wills.’

‘I’ll allow it, I suppose.’ I raised my head and kissed him lightly, before pulling away and skipping into the hallway and up the stairs to retrieve my old Martin and Dave’s semi-acoustic.

Since first dropping in so spontaneously several months beforehand and not so much rekindling as dropping a bomb on the relationship between Dave and I, I’d been back to my flat twice, the first occasion for a week and the second for just a day. The original purpose was to give Dave some space and piece my life and business affairs back together, and a good job I did too, because there was a whole heap of unpaid bills on my doormat that needed to be sorted out. The first time, it was only a matter of days before Dave insisted in one of his phone calls that I come back and stay for good. And so I packed sparingly and drove the thirty miles or so back to the wonderfully understated but covertly luxurious comfort of his house. My own home wasn’t actually bad at all, but I felt no real attachment to it; so far the only other places I held genuine sentiment for were the crumbling upper two floors of the house on Pear Street (which I couldn’t even return to now, for more reasons than mere eviction) and the cramped apartment in the heart of the city that I’d shared with Matt and Carrie, and was now Carrie’s alone.

Barely two weeks after that first return visit, I found myself lacking in everything from clothes to records, books and much of my cables, guitar accessories, you name it. Dave accompanied me and helped load all the important stuff into cardboard boxes and stack them on the back seat of the car, before driving back and adding a personal touch to what he was keen for me to call my new home. I reasoned that it wasn’t exactly the first time we’d cohabited, so I could totally justify the speed at which we merged our lifestyles together. I was okay with this – I’d never felt so assured about any decision in a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This section was hard to tackle, and I'm always apprehensive about publishing this chapter, but when it was posted on tumblr way back it got a good response, so I've tried to leave it mostly unaltered.


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